The Toll
by maryh10000
Summary: How Roy paid the Toll and how his team helped him. Heymans Breda, Vato Falman, Kain Fuery, Jean Havoc. Some Royai. LOTS OF SPOILERS! Includes some final episode Brotherhood, but otherwise Manga compliant, as far as I know.
1. Chapter 1

"I don't care who he is," Roy heard from the hall of the hospital. "If he's not going to die, I need to see someone who might. This is a triage situation."

"But it's his eyes, doctor." It was Sergeant Fuery's voice.

The door opened, but there were no footsteps. Roy was sitting on the bed, cross legged, arms loosely crossed in his lap, head down.

"Sir, can you open your eyes?" the harried doctor called, not moving from the doorway.

Roy turned his head toward the voice and opened them, feeling the disorientation as his brain still hadn't figured out how he could have his eyes open but still not see anything.

"No trauma to the eyes. Any head injury?"

"I lost my vision in an alchemical incident. There's no other physical effect as far as I can tell," he answered in a flat monotone.

"Any other injuries?"

"My hands," Roy said, lifting them up, still in their original field dressings. "But I don't think I'm going to die from that either. Go take care of someone you can help, doctor."

The doctor, feeling he'd already wasted too much time on a non-urgent case, breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, sir. I'll send an orderly to change those dressings."

"Sergeant?" Roy called as he heard the door shut and footsteps moving on.

For a moment, he thought he was too late, and Fuery had moved out of earshot. But then the door opened again.

"I'm here sir," the sergeant said, coming into the room and pulling up a chair by Roy's cot. Roy had already shut his eyes again.

"Sergeant, I appreciate what you were trying to do, but don't. I'm not in critical condition - you can't distract the doctors from the people who are."

"Yes, sir," Fuery answered, reluctantly.

More commotion from the hall. "Yes, I know he's a man. But you're still going to put me in there. There are two beds, aren't there?"

Hawkeye's voice!

There was some answer, too quiet for him to hear, then, "This is my room. I see the chart - I'm assigned here."

More indistinct talk.

"Good Lord," she said. "Sergeant Fuery? Where are you, sergeant?"

"On my way, sir," Fuery said, and went to open the door.

"Thank you. I can make it through the door if you hold it open for me. I think the orderly went for reinforcements."

Her voice entered the room, but Roy didn't hear any footsteps.

"Are you in a wheelchair, Lieutenant? What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in surgery?"

"It makes everyone happier if I don't walk by myself. Blood loss." she answered. Then there was the sound of the springs on the cot to his left, as she got onto the bed. "And yes, they took me straight to the OR, took a good look, and then sent me straight out again. Something about needing to concentrate on people who were actually hurt."

"Mai said she'd only stopped the bleeding. You need to see a real doctor, Lieutenant," Roy insisted.

"Colonel, I'm fine, except for the loss of blood. Apparently, Mai's alkestry stopped the bleeding by repairing everything they would have in the OR. I won't even have much of a scar. I just need to rest and drink and give myself time to make more blood."

The exertion of the argument and wheeling herself into the room had exhausted her. "Sergeant, don't let them move me while I'm asleep, okay?" she said, in a voice that suddenly sounded very tired.

"I won't, sir," he promised.

She laid her head on the pillows, but before she closed her eyes, she glanced one more time over at the Colonel.

"Wait," she said, making an effort to stay awake. "Are those field dressings? Sergeant, I told you to get the Colonel a doctor!"

"The sergeant's already taken care of it," Roy interjected. "Someone's coming. Go to sleep, Lieutenant. That's an order."

"Yes, sir," she answered, and then was quiet.

It was amazing what her presence, and the knowledge that she was okay, did for his spirits. He lifted his head and opened his eyes, fighting the disorientation.

"Okay, brain, get used to it," he told himself. "This is what the world looks like now." 


	2. Chapter 2

Everyone was gathered in Mustang's and Hawkeye's hospital room.

"Colonel, I've been looking through the Military Code," Falman said, recalling it from memory. "There's no way around it. Even if you were promoted to Lt General and had forty years of service, they would have to discharge you from active duty for a permanent disability, uncorrectable by automail. You get to keep your rank and your pension, but you're out of the chain of command, and you can't requisition personnel or supplies."

"Of course they're going to discharge me. Blind soldiers must retire," said Roy. He worked on keeping his eyes open despite the disorientation. His brain kept telling him it shouldn't be dark if his eyes were open, but it didn't complain when they were closed. "I need to think about what I can do now that I can't see."

"So what do you have to work with?" Hawkeye asked, and started to list things. "Pension is 1 1/2 times highest rank achieved. We can at least get you promoted before discharge. You still have flame alchemy and now you can do alchemy without a circle. You'll have your rank - not for command, but it could open doors."

"But you won't have us," Falman said. "How can we keep the team together if you're outside and we're in?"

"If you're a civilian, we could requisition your services, couldn't we?" asked Fuery. "I do it all the time for my radio equipment."

"Yes, and Ed was always putting in req's for Winry for automail repair," said Hawkeye. "I'm the one who processed them, after all. You may have an angle there, sergeant."

"Yes, that would be one way to go," said Breda, slowly. Roy was startled to hear the voice coming from the right instead of in front of him at the foot of the bed. "Listen for the footsteps," he thought to himself, irritated. It wasn't like the big man's walk was hard to hear.

"You're thinking of something, aren't you?" prompted Roy.

"Vato, what does the Code say again? Disability not correctable by automail?"

"Permanent disability," corrected Falman automatically.

"Permanent? I can work with that." Breda started pacing back and forth to Roy's right.

"Continue, Lieutenant. You don't think my blindness is permanent?" Roy's voice had an edge.

"Well, Colonel, who knows? But more importantly, how is anyone else to know? You lost your eyesight at the Gate - the same place Ed lost his right arm and Al his body. Who's to say this blindness isn't correctable? What does the Code say about temporary disability, Vato?"

"Oh, that's good!" Falman said with some animation. "We have examples of recovery. And that's a case where rank and time of service does help. The higher your rank and the longer your time of service, the longer the period allowed for recovery before discharge becomes mandatory. But you have to have a treatment plan."

"How long does he have to recover?" asked Hawkeye.

Falman muttered some numbers to himself, then "626 days. With possible extensions depending on how treatment is going. An extra 45 days if we can swing a promotion to Brigadier."

"Do-able, very do-able," said Breda.

"We need to get the paperwork started right away, then. We don't want the Colonel's discharge to come through before we get his blindness classified as treatable," said Hawkeye. "Sergeant?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Get me Lieutenant Catalina please. She can get me the right forms and then file them for me when I've got them done."

"Right," he said, and Roy heard the door open and shut as he left the room.

She should have asked him before sending Fuery on an errand like that. No, when had he ever required any of them, let alone her, to check with him on every little thing? But this wasn't a little thing. They'd all just decided for him. But ...

"So. A treatment plan?" Falman, whose footsteps were light, was suddenly speaking practically next to him on the left, instead of from the door.

Roy startled and jerked his head toward Falman's new location. At the same time, the disorientation of seeing nothing with his eyes open surged to the front of his consciousness and he lost his balance. He threw out his arms to catch himself, and his left hand hit the mattress and took his weight.

He screamed, fell onto his left forearm, and then froze, breathing hard. He was totally disoriented now, not sure even of up and down, let alone where anyone or anything was. Everyone had gone quiet as well, so for a moment it felt as if he had gone deaf as well as blind.

No one had come to catch him, though. That meant he wasn't actually on the verge of falling. He closed his eyes and calmed his breathing. He was leaning on his left forearm. Okay, that was down then.

"Falman, report your position," he ordered.

"Sir?" Falman said, momentarily confused, then, "9 o'clock, sir."

Another point of reference. His left arm. Falman.

"Colonel, you need- ", Hawkeye started.

"Quiet!" he barked, starting to be disoriented again, but willing himself to keep hold of the data points he had. Then, realizing how harsh that had sounded, repeated more calmly. "Quiet, please. I'm going to have each of you report. And don't MOVE. Breda!"

"12 o'clock. Sir!"

He had down, up, left and now front. He slowly brought himself up off his left arm to sit straight again.

"Fuery!"

No answer.

"Ah, right. He left the room. Hawkeye!"

"7 o'clock! Sir!"

"Of course," he said, smiling very slightly. "You have my back."

For a moment, he considered opening his eyes again, but didn't want to risk his newly-regained balance.

"Okay, people, I'm going to have to ask you not to make major changes in position without reporting verbally. I sure hope I get better at hearing your movements, but for now, you have to assume I don't hear you move."

Silence.

"Oh, you can talk again. I know where you all are now."

"Moving to 3 o'clock, Colonel. I assume you don't need my name, just my position?" Breda.

Roy gave a small laugh. "No, I'm just having trouble keeping track of where you are. I still recognize your voices. And by the way, my hand hurts like hell."

"I'll get a nurse," Falman said. "Moving to the door."

Before he had moved, though, the door opened.

"Sgt Fuery, sir. Reporting to Lt Hawkeye," Kain said as he walked over to the far side of Hawkeye's bed and pulled up a chair.

"What?" said Fuery, looking around at the amazed faces. "I figured the Colonel would like to keep track of where we all are. It's not like he can see us."

"OK, still at 9 o'clock, but leaving now. I'll get someone for your hand." Falman gave Fuery a thumbs-up as he passed him on the way to the door.

* * *

Author's Note, 07 Nov 10:

"Blind soldiers must retire" is said by Dr Knox in the manga.


	3. Chapter 3

When the nurse came, she didn't just bring pain killers, but a doctor as well. Hand injuries were tricky, and the doctor wanted to make sure Roy hadn't damaged anything when he fell on his hand. He unbandaged the hand and did a thorough inspection, before wrapping it up again and giving Roy something for the pain. He also prescribed bed rest, and shooed everyone out, so it wasn't until the next day that everyone was gathered together again.

"You've figured out a way to buy me some time," Roy started. "We can keep the team together for awhile. But what are we trying to do?"

"The same as before," said Breda. "You're not backing out now just because you're blind?"

"We were going to stop the fighting and move to a democracy," Roy said. "When Bradley was Fuhrer, it looked like taking over from him was the best way to do that. But Bradley's gone. I'll let Lieutenant General Grumman have the prize. He'll do all right."

"But he won't be moving us to a democracy," Breda said. "Or is that off the table, now?"

"I don't see him being opposed to someone laying the groundwork for it, though," said Roy, starting to strategize. "As long as it doesn't happen while he's Fuhrer. We can wait him out."

"Good, good," Breda smiled, glad to see the Colonel thinking and plotting again. Mustang's job was to get them together and pointed in the right direction, after all. "Then we need to get you back in uniform and on the job ASAP. Once you have over a year of successful ops under your belt, we'll have a better chance of getting the Code changed. Vato?"

"The Fuhrur can change it himself if he declares a state of emergency. Otherwise, we have to get the Secretary of State and the Secretary of Internal Security to agree as well."

"'State of Emergency' is how we got this military dictatorship in the first place," said Roy. "Let's try to avoid going that route. So we need to come up with a strategy, and by the way, I still can't see."

"Blindness," said Hawkeye, writing, "and workarounds. We've had one issue - keeping track of where people are. The workaround we came up with only works for the team itself, though. We can't exactly insist that everyone give you a running position report. Especially the Fuhrer himself."

The room fell silent, but it was a good silence - the silence of people thinking.

"Headphones," said Fuery. "I mean, headphone. I mean, just for one ear. Something you wear in one ear, and then one of us has a transmitter and broadcasts. Something like that. We could describe people's expressions too."

Roy heard Hawkeye writing something down. So being blind might be a personal tragedy, but it wasn't going to interfere with his vision.

* * *

Author's Notes, 07 Nov 2010:

"I'll let Lieutenant General Grumman have the prize. He'll do all right." is from the manga.


	4. Chapter 4

Lt Hawkeye wheeled herself down to the Elric brothers' room. Neither Izumi nor Hohenheim were in the hospital - she had to leave it to Sgt Fuery to arrange a time and place for her to speak to them, so she decided to start with the Elrics. Outside their hospital room, though, she found Major Armstrong standing guard.

"Hello, Major," she said pleasantly. "I need to talk to Ed and Al. It's business for Colonel Mustang."

"Don't let anyone in, Major," Ed called from inside the room. "Just give whoever it is the sheet I gave you."

"I'll tell him it's you," the big man whispered, after putting a sheet of paper in Hawkeye's hand.

She looked at it. "Al's body is completely back and he still has alchemy. Ed's right arm is back, left leg is not coming back, and he doesn't have alchemy anymore. Mustang is blind and still has alchemy. Izumi and Hohenheim: no change, and I don't know where they are. Father's gone for good and so are all the homunculi. Any other questions, schedule an appointment with Major Armstrong. Our next opening is in six months."

As she was reading it, smiling, the door opened and she saw Ed. "Of course she can come in, Major." Then to Hawkeye, "Sorry Lieutenant. We just keep getting the same questions over and over. Al hardly has any time to eat or sleep."

Al was sitting up against the pillows in the cot closest to the window. He had a tray of food on his lap. "Actually, it's more like I spend all my time eating and sleeping," he said. "They don't want me to eat too much at a time, so I just eat a little bit all the time. Did you hurt your legs, Lieutenant?"

"No, I'm just weak from blood loss. I think I spent most of the first few days sleeping and drinking."

On hearing that, Ed poured some iced tea into a glass and brought it to her, then sat down on his own cot. Seeing her surprised look, he shrugged. "I do that for Al all the time. I guess I'm just in the habit. So the Major says you're here for Colonel Mustang?"

"Yes, we're putting together a treatment plan for his blindness."

"Lieutenant, that's not good. There's nothing you can do about it," Ed said, adding, "Believe me, I'm been thinking about it. Not without a Philospher's Stone, anyway."

"That was one of the things I wanted to ask you about. But we still need a treatment plan, either way. If we can make a good enough case that his blindness is treatable, we can keep him from being discharged for at least a year and a half."

"But why? He can't do anything. He won't have any money trouble will he? He's got his pension, right?"

"Edward Elric, Colonel Mustang didn't need his sight to fight Father several days ago, and he won't need it for what we're planning now. We're already working on the necessary accomodations for his blindness."

Ed's jaw dropped as he looked at the Lieutenant lecturing him like a five year old. Worse, for a moment he felt like he WAS five years old.

Al had a surprised look on his face too, but just now "impossible" wasn't a word in his vocabulary. "Wow. Does that mean they can make automail eyes now?" he asked.

"No, not that," Hawkeye said, smiling. Al seemed to add flesh to those bones while she watched. "But we're dealing with each problem as it comes up. Access to written information, access to real-time visual information, mobility. The colonel, all of us, are trying to deal with this as if it's a permanent condition. But I need to understand exactly what happened and what is possible."

"The homunculus Pride made him perform a human transmutation, and he went to the Gate of Truth. Truth took his sight as the toll."

"I saw the human transmutation part," she said somberly. "And Truth gave him the ability to transmute without a circle. Couldn't he get the toll back if he gave back the extra ability?"

"You saw it!" Ed said.

Hawkeye nodded. "Bradley pinned his hands down to the transmutation circle with his swords before Pride took over and pinned him to the circle himself. Pride killed the doctor in charge of the Fuhrer candidates, said something about a construction formula and activated the transmutation circle. The Colonel and Pride disappeared and the doctor's body was transmuted into some thing."

"I was wondering how they did it," Ed muttered. "They used the Colonel like I used Al - Pride activated the transmutation and Colonel Mustang provided alchemical power just by being in physical contact with the circle."

"Ed, don't talk like that. You never used me," objected Al. He thought a moment. "Bradley pinned the Colonel's hands with his swords?"

"Yes, and it's just as horrible as you're imagining. All the way through his hands. But the wounds are healing well, and he'll get most of the mobility and feeling back in his hands and fingers. It's just going to take a few weeks. But you haven't answered my question. Couldn't the Colonel trade his new abilities to get his sight back?"

"No, that won't work," Ed said. "He got more than the extra abilities. He got that creature that the doctor's body turned into. Equivalent Exchange. He has to pay for both."

"Hmmm. I know it would be hard on him, but what about the same exchange you made, Ed? Could the Colonel trade his alchemy for his sight?" she asked.

"Lieutenant, he wouldn't be able to get back. You need alchemy to get to the Gate, and you need it to get back here, too. Because of the way Al and I did the transmutation, our Gates were linked. I used Al's Gate to get back, after I gave mine up."

"Oh." Hawkeye paused, realizing how much hope she had actually put in that possibility. "So the only way would be with a Philospher's Stone? Of course, we could never make one, but as long as one already exists - we could ask Ling if we could use his."

"It's not a question of using it and giving it back. The Philosopher's Stone would become the toll. I really appreciated Ling's offer to use his Stone to get Al back, but I don't see him giving up his chance at the throne to get the Colonel's sight back.

"And besides, you can't trust this Truth guy," he continued. "It's not like you can be sure what he'll consider an "equivalent" toll. Even if the Colonel had a Stone for the toll, how do you know Truth won't decide it's not enough? I mean, why did Truth only take my left leg when Al and I did human transmutation, but all of Al? Body and soul? I had to pay my right arm just to get Al's soul back." 


	5. Chapter 5

"Hi, Colonel."

Roy turned his head in surprise. The orderly was changing his bandages, and the doctor was checking how his hands were healing, but this familiar-with-a-difference voice didn't belong to either of them.

"Hi, Al. What brings you here?" Hawkeye and Fuery were there too, but the others had left.

"Mai showed me a few things about the Healing Arts. I thought if I saw your hands, I could think of something that might help them heal faster."

"He suggested it, Colonel," said the doctor. "I didn't think you'd mind."

"I don't. Not at all. Thank you."

Someone took his right hand, one hand under the fingers, the other under the wrist, carefully avoiding the wound in the palm between. He thought he'd gotten pretty good at recognizing the hands that touched him, but these weren't the doctor's or the orderly's, and they certainly weren't a boy's.

"Ah, it does seem to be healing cleanly," Al said. "What do you think if we do this? And this?" The boy was talking to the doctor and drawing on the injured hand with his thumbs. And then Roy realized, with a start, that the unfamiliar hand was, of course, Al's, who was, of course, not the ten-year-old from the photo that he always pictured in his mind.

Al felt the Colonel jerk and loosened his grip, while still keeping gentle control of his hand.

"I'm sorry, Colonel, did I hit a sore spot?" he asked in concern.

"I suppose you could say so," Roy answered, lips pressed tightly together. "I don't know what the hell you look like! For some reason, I was expecting you to have the hands of a ten-year-old."

"Oh," Al said. There was an uncomfortable silence, followed by a very uncharacteristic, though soft, "damn!" from the younger Elric himself.

"Talk to me, man!" snapped the Colonel. "I suppose eventually I'll be able to read everyone by the way they breathe, but I can't see your face, you know."

"I was going to let you touch my face," Al said sheepishly, "but I can't figure out how to do it without hurting your hands."

Roy sighed. "Wait until the bandages are back on. The trick is to keep my hands supported and level - not lifted up."

"Okay. After we're finished here, then."

Roy winced from time to time as Al and the doctor and the orderly all did things to his hands, but mostly he concentrated on learning the shape and feel of Al's hands, and getting used to the sort-of-familiar voice as Al talked to the doctor.

When the bandages were back on and the doctor was finishing up, he heard his team begin to reassemble.

"Hi, colonel," said Breda, the first back, heavy footsteps coming to the foot of the bed. There was the scrape of a chair and then a creak as the big man sat in it. Books thudded to the floor and Breda started paging through one that was on his lap.

Next in was Falman. "By the door, colonel," he stated crisply, as if reporting his position on a battlefield. Roy couldn't hear the chair this time, but he heard the rustle of paper coming from lower down, so he knew the Second Lieutenant had taken a seat.

"Good afternoon, Colonel, Al," came a woman's voice. Roy heard Ross's footsteps move to the other side of Hawkeye's cot from him. "Going over reqs with Riza," the voice continued, now lower down as she sat. "Denny's watching the door," she added, her voice directed pointedly in that direction.

Roy heard heels click together and was pretty sure Brosh was saluting when he heard,"Sir! Sgt Brosh reporting from the hall! Sir!"

"Thank you, Sergeant," Roy said mildly. "At ease." It wouldn't do to have Brosh standing at attention for the next four hours.

Fuery, he knew, was modifying a headset at his table by the window. The sergeant always reported his position, but only when it changed. Everyone was back, then.

"That's it, Colonel," said the doctor. "We'll be back this evening."

"Thank you, doctor, orderly," Roy said, politely inclining his head in the direction of the doctor's voice. The two left, stopping at the door briefly to talk to someone. Probably Brosh, but it seemed rather odd that he didn't hear the door close.

"Okay, Colonel, so how do we do this?" Al asked.

Roy turned so he was sitting cross-legged facing the side of the cot and the door to the room. He put his two pillows on his lap, to raise up his arms, and then laid his arms on the pillows, the fingers of his right hand extending past the edge.

"I know it's awkward, Al, but can you get your face under my fingers?"

"Sure," came the quiet, cheerful voice that was starting to sound familiar again.

He heard the expected skritch as Al moved the chair out of the way. Most people would need to kneel or sit on the floor to get their face under his fingers in this position. It also grew very quiet in the room, which he supposed was inevitable. Everyone was watching.

"Um, I think I'm going to need some help here," Al said, but it wasn't directed at him. It was directed at the door.

Roy heard swift, heavy steps enter the room, definitely no one from his team or they'd have said something.

"What's wrong, Al? And who just came in?"

"It's Ed," answered Al. "And nothing's wrong. I'm just really weak. I need help getting to the floor."

He heard movement as the two brothers arranged themselves on the floor next to the cot.

"Watch it, Al, that's my left arm. Ow!"

Sorry, Ed. I couldn't control - "

"Yeah, yeah, I know."

Roy felt a hand touch his fingers, very carefully, and he gave a slight nod as he recognized Al.

"Start with my forehead?" Al asked.

Roy nodded, and then felt a forehead at his fingertips. Al's face. Not metal, but flesh and blood.

"Al?" he asked, with wonder in his voice.

"Yeah, it's really me," Al said. He loved this - when people he knew finally saw him in the flesh.

Roy felt the eyebrows, eyes, nose. "Well, it looks like your grin is as big as Fullmetal's," Roy said, a big smile on his own face, as he got to Al's cheeks and mouth.

Ed finally addressed the Colonel directly. "I'm not Fullmetal anymore," he said bluntly. "Just Ed." Then he added, "But _you_ can call me Mr. Elric."

"Oh, ho," said Roy. "That could get confusing with two Mr Elrics in the room."

"Leave me out of it, Colonel," said Al, exasperated. "I'm still just Al. I don't care what you call my idiot big brother. Idiot big brother, could you get me back into my wheelchair?"

More sounds of movement.

Then, "D'you wanna see my right arm?" And without waiting for a response, Ed had put his right shoulder under Roy's fingers.

This time the smile on the Colonel's face as his fingers moved was more wistful. The arm was back, but not the leg, he knew. And Ed had lost his alchemy. But after all, Al was back and completely unharmed. In the end, Ed had done his duty by his subordinate.

"Well done, Mr. Elric," Roy said simply.

"Huh?" said Ed, and Roy could have sworn he could hear the kid blush.

"I was just being a jerk back there, Colonel," he mumbled. "Ed's fine. Just Ed."


	6. Chapter 6

The next day, Roy had a different visitor.

Dr. Knox cracked open the door to the hospital room and looked in. "Oh, Colonel Mustang?"

Roy turned his head towards the door, "Dr. Knox?"

"Are you doing all right?" he asked. He came into the room, which looked like a cross between a hospital room and a military office. All Mustang's subordinates seemed to be there doing various kinds of work. Even Lieutenant Hawkeye was there, looking over paperwork while sitting up on her own hospital bed.

"Well, these guys are pests," said Roy. "They won't give me any rest."

"No, not that," said Dr. Knox. "I meant your eyes."

"It's the punishment for those who dream ... or so I'm told," said Roy. "I wish I could do what Edward did and use my own gate as the toll, but then there wouldn't be a way back. My eyes were taken. There's nothing I can do about it."

Knox left the room for a moment, then came back in with someone else in tow. "Someone interesting found me while I was out and followed me back here. Hey, get in here, Marcoh."

"Marcoh. Dr. Marcoh!" Roy asked.

"I overheard you talking," said Dr Marcoh. "I have a philosopher's stone here. Can you use this as the toll to regain your sight?"

"Doctor!" said Roy.

"But!" Marcoh continued. "I will give this to you on one condition! We could not have won this battle without the cooperation of the Ishvalans. Colonel Mustang, I want you to revise the policies on Ishval. Lift the barricade on Ishval. And let the Ishvalans living in the slums return to their holy land ... and ... I want you ... to allow me to live there as a doctor."

Roy remembered the words Kimblee had said long ago in Ishval. "Do not look away from each new death. Look straight ahead. And never forget."

"I see ... ", Roy said. "You were in Ishval too ... I promise. I will devote my full power to revising policy on Ishval."

The two doctors left the hospital room.

"Ishval first, then," said Hawkeye. "That seems fitting somehow."

"Lt. Breda, it's time we got Havoc back here," Roy said. "If I use the Stone to get my sight back, it'll be gone for good, so he's going first."

"Yes, sir," Heymans said, grinning, then stopped. "_If_ you use the Stone, Colonel?"

Roy shrugged his shoulders. "It's complicated. Havoc's got an ordinary injury that the Stone can heal without any detours to the Gate. Using it to pay the toll to get my sight back isn't so clear cut. It might not work, and it may even make things worse. I want Jean back and things a bit farther along before I take that risk."

* * *

Author's notes, 07 Nov 2010:

The following are from the manga, although they happen before Mustang is in the hospital:

Mustang: It's the punishment for those who dream ... or so I'm told. I wish I could do what Edward did and use my own gate as the toll, but then there wouldn't be a way back. My eyes were taken. There's nothing I can do about it.

Knox: ... Someone interesting found me while I was out and followed me back here. Hey, get in here, Marcoh-san.

Mustang: Marcoh. Dr. Marcoh!

Marcoh: I overheard you talking. I have a philosopher's stone here. Can you use this as the toll to regain your sight?

Mustang. Doctor!

Marcoh: But! I will give this to you on one condition! We could not have won this battle without the cooperation of the Ishvalans. Colonel Mustang, I want you to revise the policies on Ishval. Lift the barricade on Ishval. And let the Ishvalans living in the slums return to their holy land ... and ... I want you ... to allow me to live there as a doctor.

Mustang: (thinking / remembering) Do not look away from each new death. Look straight ahead. And never forget.

Mustang: I see ... You were in Ishval too ... I promise. I will devote my full power to revising policy on Ishval.

The following are from the Brotherhood anime:

Mustang: Yeah, these guys are pests. They won't give me any rest.

Knox: No, not that, I meant your eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

It felt good to be back in his office at Central, and even better to have everyone else there. He didn't mind the promotion to Brigadier General either.

Havoc still used a cane, but that wouldn't last much longer. Roy used a cane as well, but not for support. It was a long, light-weight stick that he used to scan for obstacles and to tap out the edges of a path, and he could fold it up small enough to fit in his pocket when he wasn't using it. Falman had come across it in his research, and it had given Roy a huge boost when he realized he'd be able to walk on his own again.

His earpiece was small enough to let him hear what Havoc or Hawkeye was broadcasting without blocking all other sound from that ear. It had taken some practice to be able to listen to them and still attend to all the sounds from both ears. But without vision taking any of his attention anymore, he'd learned to focus much better on sounds since his days at the hospital. He could even hear Falman's footsteps now.

These days, his team still reported when they entered or left the room, but normally not when they were just moving about. And even if they did suddenly show up in an unexpected location, it didn't throw him off balance. His brain was no longer trying to synchronize his vestibular system with his sight.

They had all expected Fuery to be the one who did most of the broadcasting, but he turned out to be useless at the job. He just didn't notice the things that Roy needed to know. Hawkeye and Havoc, on the other hand, were always scanning their surroundings.

They were all sitting around the meeting table.

"General, isn't about time you got your sight back?" Havoc asked. "The Stone's done all I need." He didn't have any trouble understanding why Mustang had gotten him cured first - that was the General for you - but he didn't understand the hesitation now.

"Getting tired of talking in my ear, Lieutenant?" Roy asked.

"Well, that's kind of cool," Havoc said. "Invisible reports from two other locations. No reason for that to stop after you can see."

"I've got the reports from Ed, Al, Izumi Curtis, and Hohenheim. The only one who thinks it's a risk is Ed," Hawkeye, now a Captain, reported.

"Unfortunately, he's also the only one who's ever successfully used a Philospher's Stone as a toll. He should be more confident than the others, not less," Roy mused. "What about the Ishvalans, Lt Falman?"

"They consider the Philosopher's Stone to be an abomination. It prevents the souls of the dead from going to rest in Ishvala. They would want the souls from the Stone to be released," he reported.

"Fine. Use the Stone as the toll, and then destroy it." All this talk of souls and tolls was making Havoc's head hurt.

"Well, that's a question, isn't it?" said Roy. "If I leave the Stone at the Gate as the toll, are the souls released or what? What do the Ishvalans think?"

"They don't have any information about the Gate or Truth. Not written down, anyway. I'd need to do more research," Falman answered.

Up to this point, Breda, now a First Lieutenant, had been quiet. "I don't like to say this, but I think we might have a problem with the Ishvalans if the General uses a Philospher's Stone. Especially this one. They found out that State Alchemists used a Philosopher's Stone made with Ishvalan souls in the Civil War, and there's already a rumor going around that the Flame Alchemist was one of them. Not to mention you're still not particularly popular with the surviving Ishvalans in the first place, sir."

"So? They don't need to know." Havoc shrugged his shoulders.

"What if I gave them the Stone?" Roy asked.

Havoc: "Are you crazy?"

Fuery: "No way!"

Falman: "General, you can't."

"Lieutenant Breda and Captain Hawkeye, you were both silent. What do you think?"

Breda, relieved that he wasn't the only one following his current line of thought, deferred to the Captain.

"General, this Stone was made with Ishvalan lives," she said. "I can't help thinking they have the right to have their dead rest in peace according to their own beliefs. If we don't give them this, how can they ever believe we truly respect them?"

"Dr Marcoh gave you that Stone to get your sight back, sir," protested Havoc.

"Dr Marcoh gave me that stone so I would be able to deal fairly with the Ishvalans," said Roy. "It's not clear to me that I need my sight to do that. Lieutenant Breda?"

"We've got to have their trust and cooperation if we've going to let them resettle their holy lands," said Breda. "Otherwise, the terrorism will start all over again, and it'll be worse this time. There are a lot of them now with no memory of friendly relations with Amestris at all. I don't know what their religion is going to tell them to do with the Stone, but I think it would be a disaster if they found out the man they were negotiating with had it and kept it away from them. Giving them the Stone might not gain their trust, but I think not giving it to them could destroy any possibility of trust."

"Yes, I was starting to come to that conclusion. But I'd like to speak with some Ishvalans first before I make any final decisions. There's Major Miles. Should I pull him in, Lieutenant Breda? Do you have any other recommendations? Any of you?"

"You can't do that, General," said Feury. "I got a communique in from the Fuhrer this morning just before this meeting."

"Go ahead, Sergeant," said Roy. "What can't I do?"

Fuery read the communique to the group at the table.

"Captain Hawkeye, I think I need to arrange a meeting with the Fuhrer," Roy said. 


	8. Chapter 8

Fuhrer Grumman looked out the window, flanked by the Secretary of State and the Secretary of Internal Security, the second and third most powerful men in the country. The three generals watched Mustang come up the long, long walk to the Fuhrer's palace.

Roy walked tall and without assistance, the slender cane sweeping the ground in front of him the only sign of his blindness. Captain Hawkeye, 1st Lieutenant Breda and 2nd Lieutenant Falman walked together behind him. 2nd Lieutenant Havoc walked alone several more paces behind them.

"The Fuhrer and two full Generals, watching from the second floor window at 2 o'clock, elevation 45 degrees," Havoc reported.

Roy stopped, held his cane straight up in his left hand, looked up in the direction Havoc had given him, clicked his heels, and saluted.

Then they continued up the walk and the stairs to the main entrance. Havoc stayed outside, on the grounds.

Grumman met Mustang and his party at the door. "Grumman, Colonel Smith left, Major Wesson right," Hawkeye reported.

Once again, Roy clicked his heels and saluted, "Fuhrer, Sir!", then inclined his head to the left and the right. "Colonel Smith, Major Wesson."

"Come walk with me, young man," Grumman said, motioning Roy to his right side.

"Move to Fuhrer's right," came Hawkeye's voice in his ear.

Colonel Smith walked at Grumman's left and Major Wesson filled out the line, walking directly to Roy's right, effectively preventing him from using his cane in any but a very limited arc directly in front of him. And the main staircase was coming up, he knew both from memory and practice before this meeting.

"Your salute to the window was quite impressive, my boy," Grumman said as the four of them climbed the stairs. "It's too bad you were off by several degrees. You shouldn't pretend to see what you can't."

"Ah, I'm sorry sir. My information is usually completely reliable," he answered, completely unfazed. He knew he'd nailed it.

The loud bootsteps on either side of him were more than enough to keep him oriented, and he had enough use of his cane to check the height of the steps and make sure there were no obstacles.

They continued down a hall, turned right, went down another hall, and turned right again. Everyone stopped, Hawkeye informing him they were at a door. She had just enough time to tell Roy there was no one else in the room, where the desk was, and where one of the chairs in front of the desk was, before Grumman said, "Captain, Lieutenants, we'd like to speak with the Brigadier alone. Please step outside."

"Curtains closing, can't see in," came Havoc's last report from outside, a moment later.

"Have a seat, Brigadier General," Grumman said.

"Is this one okay, sir?" Roy asked. "As you know, you've cut off my visual information, so I apologize if your answer was no," he said as he sat in the chair Hawkeye had described, folding up his cane and placing it to his right on the seat.

"And what will you do if that happens when you are representing Amestris?" said Colonel Smith's voice from Roy's left, at a height that indicated he had also sat down.

"I presume demonstrating that is part of the purpose of this meeting, Colonel," Roy answered, facing the direction of the voice. "In a friendly situation, it would be rude to separate me from all of my subordinates, and in a hostile situation, we would probably have been fighting before that happened."

"And what would you do if there were fighting? What if I were pointing a gun at you right now?" asked the Major, whose voice indicated he was standing, and even further to Roy's left than the Colonel. "You wouldn't even know."

Roy brought his hands together, then slipped off the chair, knelt on the floor, and touched the floor with the palms of his hands, all in one smooth motion that took a fraction of a second. A wall of stone sprang up one foot in front of the Major, about five feet across, and about six feet high.

"You are right, of course," he answered from his position on the floor. "I wouldn't know if you even had a gun, let alone where you were pointing it. On the other hand, your voice has given me more than enough information on your position, and if you were actually a hostile, I would not have thrown up a wall. I would have incinerated you." Roy brought his hands together again, slapped his palms to the floor, and then got back into the chair, not quite as smoothly as when he had slid out of it to the floor. The wall was reabsorbed into the floor.

"I apologize for the damage, Fuhrer. I don't have enough visual information to reconstruct the floor perfectly, but I thought a demonstration was necessary."

Someone was stepping up behind him from the right. He could hear the Colonel and Major breathing heavily, and dusting themselves off on his left, so he turned to face the footsteps. "That was embarrassing, sir. Apparently I was addressing an empty chair."

"Indeed you were, Brigadier," and Roy could finally hear a smile in the old man's voice. "But it seems that even without your 'visual information', as you call it, you're not very easy to sneak up on."

"I'm blind, sir," said Roy. "I've never claimed otherwise. I only claim that, with my team, I can still do my job. It may be several months before my rehabilitation is complete. I don't want to sit around doing nothing until then."

"Colonel, Major, please leave us alone," said Grumman. Roy listened carefully to the footsteps and to the door opening and closing until, as best he could tell, they had actually left the room.

"Roy," said Grumman. "What's going on? Why are you still blind?"

"As I said, I have several more months of - ."

"Don't give me that. I know the rehabilitation plan was just a ploy to buy time. I was willing to go along with it, until you started acting like you were really on active duty. Then, when Havoc was miraculously cured, I discovered you'd gotten hold of a Philosopher's Stone. So I'll ask you again: Why are you still blind?"

"I'm not sure I can use it," Roy said. "I may not be able to. And I _can_ function, even without my sight. That's what this little demonstration is about, isn't it? That's why the Secretaries of State and of Internal Security were watching from the window."

"I have the same report that Riza gave you. Everyone but Ed thinks there would be no problem using the Stone. And Ed would lie for you." Grumman said.

"And if he's not lying? If there's a risk I could come back in worse shape, or even dead? Sir, I want to get a little further on the Ishvalan Restoration project before I take that risk."

There was silence, except for Grumman's breathing, perfectly calm, giving nothing away. Then there was the sound of the Fuhrer ruffling some paper, and more silence. Finally, "You may go now, Roy, See yourself out."

Roy reached for the cane folded up in the chair, but it was gone. "I don't suppose I can have any of my people escort me?" he asked conversationally.

"I don't see why. And of course, my people are much too busy to help," Grumman answered, equally conversationally.

"Of course," said Roy. "It's just that I may cause a bit of a mess on my way out."

"If it can't be helped," Grumman said.

"Sir!" Roy stood, clicked his heels and saluted. Then he brought his hands together and touched the chair he had been sitting in. It collapsed, but not before it had left a long slender stick, very similar to Roy's cane, in his hand.

He clapped his hands again, and squatted to slap his palms on the floor, then lifted them to waist high on his left and pointed in the rough direction of the door he had entered through. A railing appeared out of the floor, waist high, on his left. His left hand on the railing, he swept the floor with the cane in his right hand until he came to the door. He had been fully prepared to transmute a door in the wall if he had been too far off, but his sense of direction was good. He found the handle easily and opened the door.

It had been a right turn into this room, so it would be left to get out. He walked down the hall, tapping his cane against the wall on the left. He turned left again when he came to another hall. After a few steps, his cane was tapping a railing instead of solid wall, and he could hear that he was out of the hall and in an open space. He was at the top of the stairway, then.

He put his left hand on the railing and once again, used his right to sweep the cane in front of him. The staircase curved more than he had remembered coming up. The Major and the Colonel must have taken him in a straight path up the middle of the staircase, avoiding the curves. Which meant that now that he was at the bottom of the staircase, he wasn't sure what direction the door was.

This would be so much easier if he could just ask. He could hear that there were other people about. Well, there was nothing for it, but he didn't want anybody to get hurt.

"Attention, everyone. I will give you one minute to remove yourself from the path in front of me," and he gestured along the line he was planning to use. He flipped open the glass cover of his watch and checked the second hand, as he heard people scurrying. "Five, four, three, two, one." Then he transmuted a waist-high railing again, as he had before.

When he got to the end of the railing, there was still no wall or door, so he prepared to transmute again, but this time he was stopped by a desparate call. "Brigadier, please, wait!" Roy froze, suddenly worried that he had almost hurt someone. There was the sound of a pair of feet running up to a point a few paces in front of him, where the railing would go next, and then the feet stepped back out of his path. "Just rescuing a Xing vase, sir," a man's voice said. "Carry on!" And Roy could hear both laughter and approval in the voice.

This time, the railing ended at a wall, which didn't surprise Roy. He hadn't expected to hit the door this time. He clapped his hands and pressed his palms into the wall, transmuting a door. He opened it, but stood on the threshold, his cane letting him know that his door had come out some distance above the ground on the outside. He was prepared to give another one minute warning before transmuting steps to take him down to ground level, but he heard Havoc's voice in his ear.

"You're one foot above a flowerbed, 10 yards from the main entrance. The sidewalk is to your right and the lawn between you and the sidewalk is clear."

Roy transmuted a three foot wide wooden plank to take him over the flowerbed down to the lawn, then another plank walkway to the sidewalk. As he walked along the left side of the long sidewalk that led, eventually, to the street where his staff car was parked, he started hearing the sounds of people gathering.

"You've got an audience, sir," he heard Havoc say. "There's a line of soldiers along each side of the sidewalk, starting in 20 yards and continuing the remaining 40 yards to the curb. They're all at attention."

Roy stopped for a moment on hearing this and turned his head as if looking over his shoulder.

Then Hawkeye's voice. "No one's behind you. This isn't for Grumman or the Secretaries. It's for you, Brigadier."

Roy looked straight ahead, moved his cane to his left hand, and stepped as close to the center of the sidewalk as he could while still keeping track of the left edge. As he continued walking, he began to hear the boots clicking and the swish of arms raised in salute. He raised his own hand in a salute, until he heard Hawkeye's voice. "Lower now. You're past. Turn right. You'll meet up with us on your right in 20 paces."

Upstairs, on the second floor balcony, Grumman sat with the second and third most powerful men in the country. "He warned me he might make a bit of a mess," he said with a sigh.


	9. Chapter 9

Scar had told them to call him whatever they wanted to. The Ishvalan talked about his "big brother" often enough that someone had called him "little brother" once, and it stuck.

Little Brother was staying at the Headman's hovel in the slums around Central, while Major Miles waited for his appointment with Brigadier General Mustang. All he had seen of Mustang during the battle in Central was a column of fire. Exactly as he had seen it described during the Ishvalan Annihilation: in glowing terms and black and white pictures in the Amestrian newspapers.

A young-looking sergeant with glasses came down the hall, stopped in front of him, and saluted, which wasn't strictly necessary. They were indoors and the sergeant wasn't reporting to him. "We're glad you could come, Major," he said with what looked like a genuine smile. "I'm Major Sergeant Feury. Please follow me, sir."

He led Miles down the hall and into a standard-issue General's office and staff room. The Brigadier's desk was at the far end, various staff tables lined either wall, and the inevitable conference table was at the end of the room by the door.

Mustang himself was seated in the middle of one of the long sides of the rectangular table, flanked by a female Captain on his left and a big, somewhat overweight, First Lieutenant on his right. On the short side of the table to the Lieutenant's right was a familiar face: Second Lieutenant Falman. They indicated that he should sit across the table from the Brigadier.

The friendly little sergeant who had brought him in went back to what was presumably his usual table. The only odd thing in the room was a Second Lieutenant sitting on a high stool in the back left corner wearing some sort of headset.

The Major reported to the Brigadier, saluting. He expected the sort of casual return salute that officers tended to give when seated. In this case, it would also somewhat mask the fact that Mustang's return would necessarily be a bit off. Miles was standing a couple of feet to the left of his chair.

To his complete surprise, Mustang rose, turned to face him directly, and gave him the formal precise return salute that matched his exactly, as if he were a fellow General or a visiting dignitary.

"Welcome, Major," Roy smiled, taking his seat and motioning Miles to do the same. Then he introduced him to the officers at the table and ended with "Second Lieutenant Havoc is acting as my eyes at the moment." He looked over his right shoulder in the Lieutenant's direction, and then touched some apparatus in his left ear. "He makes sure I know what direction to face when I'm saluting."

Miles remembered the Major General's words. "Mustang is a crafty one. Either he'll have his blindness cured by the time you get there, or it won't matter."

The immaculate uniform, the perfect salute in the right direction despite his blindness, the overdone politeness and friendliness of him and his people. The Major General had never liked him either. Major Miles took an immediate dislike to the man.

"If the restoration of Ishval is to go smoothly, we'll need the involvement of the Ishvalans themselves," said Mustang. "We were hoping you could give us an idea of who we should be talking to."

"Brigadier," answered Miles stiffly, "I'm only a quarter Ishvalan. My Ishvalan grandfather was killed in Kanda during the Ishvalan conflict. Also, I have spent most of my military career at Briggs, which as you know is rather remote. There are no other Ishvalans or part-Ishvalans in the vicinity."

"And yet Major General Armstrong and Second Lieutenant Falman both thought you would be able to help me," Mustang prompted. "Please don't underestimate yourself, Major."

Miles had never disliked Falman, though he was clearly not up to the caliber of a Briggs man. But he frowned to hear Mustang mention him on the same level as the Major General.

Mustang's "eyes" had clearly reported the frown, because he seemed nonplussed for the first time. "I'm sorry about your grandfather. Kanda doesn't happen to be one of the areas I cleared out, but it could well have been." The man could have been offering condolences for accidentally running over a pet dog.

Miles shook his head slowly from side to side. "You don't have a clue, sir, do you? You have your man talking in your ear, but what can he say? You're all blind!"

At that, Mustang leaned across the table at him. "Then open our eyes, Major," he said in a cold steel voice. "I won't have another Ishvalan slaughter on my hands, and if we don't handle this correctly, we could have."

Another slaughter. It sounded almost like a threat. And the voice made clear that this was, indeed, the hero of the Ishvalan Annihilation.

Miles rose from his chair and leaned straight-armed on the tabletop. "Then with all due respect, sir, why are you in charge? The Flame Alchemist wants to meet with leaders of the Ishvalan remnant and then restore the refugees to their homeland? How? In ashes?"

Mustang sat back in his chair. His voice was mild now. "Which is exactly the problem," he said. "If that's the kind of reaction I get from a loyal Amestrian officer, what chance do I have with Ishvalan refugees? Second Lieutenant Falman tells me there's a fifty-fifty chance that any refugee I meet will have lost a friend or relative in one of my actions. In any group of five or more, the question is not whether but how many I killed."

Miles sat down, mesmerized by Mustang's matter-of-fact tone and the infamous white gloves with their red embroidery. "Is that what you're doing then, Brigadier?" he asked softly. "Are you planning on bringing the rest of us home as ash?"

The shocked silence and expressions from everyone in the room gave him an answer of sorts. For a moment, the Brigadier himself just leaned on his elbows and covered his face with those gloves.

Then he sighed, straightened up, and said, "No, Major, that is not what we're planning. We're just trying to fix what we can. And unfortunately, at the moment, we're the best you've got." Then, "Captain, the box please."

Hawkeye left the room by a door close to the General's desk. A moment later she brought a small strongbox to the table, unlocked it, and opened it. A red, jewel-like shard lay on a pillow of white.

"Major, that is the last Philosopher's Stone that we know of in Amestris," he said. "Do you know how they're made?"

"With living souls," Miles answered, barely audible.

Mustang picked up the uncanny thing. "And this one was made with the lives of Ishvalan Amestrian soldiers. I give it to the Ishvalans. Will you help me determine who that should be?"

Miles hardly heard Mustang after "made with the lives of Ishvalan". He rose again, this time knocking over the chair. "How dare _you_ touch that with _those_ gloves!"

Mustang slowly and carefully returned the Stone to the box and then removed his gloves. "Forgive me. They're like part of my uniform," he said in the same infuriatingly calm voice.

Miles was still staring at those hands, though. A thick diagonal scar was visible on the back of each hand Mustang had laid back on the table.

The Major fumbled a bit as he righted his chair and sat down again. "That was where you were pinned to the Human Transmutation circle," he said, half to himself.

Miles had never thought of State Alchemists as getting their hands dirty like real soldiers. They drew their circles and threw their weapons ahead of them. Kimblee was exactly what he expected a State Alchemist to be like, vain and pretty and scar-free. And Mustang had seemed just like him.

Roy turned his hands over to show the scars which were even more vivid on the lighter skin of his palms. "You sound well informed," he said.

The Brigadier didn't look like he'd have any scars at all, so his hands were all the more shocking. The marks were big and ugly and horrifying - something piercing your hands all the way through.

"I've heard an eyewitness account," Miles said.

From Little Brother. Mustang had refused Bradley, but been forced to do the transmutation anyway. It hadn't made any difference at all. Except it had. If he had cooperated, there would be no scars on his hands.

Finally, the rest of what Mustang had said, registered. "Brigadier, did you say you were going to give that Stone to Ishvalans?" he asked.

"First Lieutenant Breda and Captain Hawkeye both think it necessary to gain the trust and cooperation of the refugees. I was not as certain," he answered dryly. "I am now."

"Did you use it yourself?" Miles expected another brutally calm reply, but Mustang frowned, not as if he were calculating what to say but as if he weren't sure what the answer was.

The answer came from the man in the corner.

Havoc took off his headset, came off the stool, and strode right up to the side of the table where the Major sat. He gave Miles the perfect and perfectly insolent salute and boot click that only certain soldiers ever truly master, and then said, "Major, sir! The Brigadier General has used that Stone once and once only, to fix my back so I can walk again. Sir!"

He repeated the boot click and salute, strode back to his stool, sat down and put his headset back on.

Miles still disliked the Brigadier. But when he looked around at Mustang's people, it gave him a bit of the feel of Briggs men after all.

"Very well," he said. "Then let's figure out who you should talk to."


	10. Chapter 10

Miles sat on the elaborately woven rug that covered the hard packed earth floor of the one-room shack that was used as the Headman's meeting house. With him was the Headman, Little Brother and Cleric Bozidar, who had been Little Brother's Master.

"As we expected, Brigadier General Mustang wants to meet with the Ishvalan leadership to organize the restoration. He's worried about possible terrorist attacks by Ishvalans," Miles was saying.

"Then will he be able to work with Little Brother?" asked Bozidar.

"Major General Armstrong thought Brigadier Mustang's reaction to Little Brother would be ... interesting," Miles said, "but she obviously expected him to be able to cooperate. I don't think that will be a problem."

"Mustang will deal with me," said Little Brother. "Why not? He's already done it."

The Headman snorted in disgust. "State Alchemists tried to wipe out our entire people," he said. "Mustang was one of them - he was promoted and called a hero for it. And you want to know if _he_ will be able to work with one Ishvalan who killed some of them? He is right to worry about terrorists. _He_ is the one who must earn _our_ trust - especially from those who would like to continue what Little Brother started."

"He is aware of that," Miles said. "That's why he's returning the Ishvalan Philosopher's Stone as a token of goodwill."

Cleric Bozidar muttered a prayer in Ishvalan. The Headman grunted in shock and disbelief. Surprise flitted briefly over Little Brother's face, but was quickly replaced by a slow nod and a tight smile.

"How do you know he really has it?" asked the Headman.

"He showed me," answered Miles, "although I have no way of knowing that what he showed me was really a Philosopher's Stone at all, let alone that one."

"He showed you?" asked Little Brother. "What did it look like?"

The Major described what he had seen. "Could be," Little Brother said. "If I held it, I would know for certain."

"And you believe he will actually give the Stone up?" asked the Headman, unsure.

"Why should he not?" asked Bozidar. "The Amestrians have already suffered greatly from these Stones. And they surely are powerful enough without them."

"I don't know if we can can trust him, but it is something he would do," said Little Brother. "Did he tell you how he got the Stone? I thought Dr. Marcoh had it."

"No, he didn't. I'll see if I can find out," answered the Major. "What will you do with it?" he asked, turning to the Headman and the Cleric.

"We will release the souls trapped within it," answered the Cleric, not waiting for the Headman's response. In this, his authority was absolute.

The Headman nodded agreement, but then asked, "Couldn't we use it to cure some of our people first?"

"Can we cure everyone?" asked the Cleric. "How would we choose? And what of those who would be tempted to steal it for destruction rather than healing? No, the souls have suffered long enough. We will release them to Ishvala as soon as we get the Stone."

"As you say," agreed the Headman. "But I'd like it to be done with the witness of the assembly. Let Little Brother receive the Stone from the Flame Alchemist himself, identify it, and destroy it."

* * *

Author's Note: 07 Nov 2010:

I got the name "Bozidar" for Scar's Master from Cap'nHoozits fic "Sons of the Desert'. At first, I thought she had found the Master's name in the manga. When I found out she had come up with it herself, she gave me her permission to continue using it.


	11. Chapter 11

When it had reached the time for the meeting, and no one had come to get him, Major Miles went down to Mustang's office and knocked. Still getting no response, he came in and closed the door behind him, remaining by the door for the moment.

Everyone was gathered around the conference table. Mustang, Breda, Hawkeye and Falman were seated in the same places they had been before. The little Sergeant was standing up and bending over something on the table between Mustang and Breda. Havoc was sitting in a chair to the left of where Miles had sat before, his headset on the table in front of him.

Havoc glanced over at the door. "Hi, Major Miles," he said, then turned his attention back to the conversation at the table.

"Gloves on or off?" Mustang was asking, holding up hands in plain gray gloves.

Miles noticed he wasn't wearing his earpiece.

"Off, of course," said Breda.

"But the scars are so ugly!" complained the only person in the room who couldn't actually see them. "Hi, Major," Mustang added, waving a hello in no direction in particular.

He pulled the gloves off. "Can you see the transmutation circle on my right hand?" he asked.

"Not really, sir," said Fuery, looking up from his work. Miles noticed that the sergeant was doing something with Mustang's earpiece. "There are some broken lines, but they look more like wrinkles than anything else."

Mustang looked horrified. "Then I'm wearing the gloves. Definitely!" he said, starting to pull them back on. "Do they really look like wrinkles?"

"I wouldn't worry about it, sir," said Hawkeye, dryly. "Compared to the sword scar, you really don't notice what's left of the transmutation circle."

"Wonderful," muttered Mustang, but he started removing the gloves again anyway. "I didn't mind the transmutation circle," he added peevishly. "That looked good."

Miles, incredulous at the exchange, finally walked over to the table and sat down. "Sir," he said, "Your scars are a badge of honor!"

"That's what I've been trying to tell you, Brigadier," said Havoc. "Listen to the Major."

Mustang's gloves were off again, and he was rubbing the scars of one hand with the other, as if he could erase them. "Yes, well, he's a Briggs man."

He turned in the direction of Miles' voice. "Major, I'd like to ask you to tell me when you enter or leave the room. I can't always have Havoc or Hawkeye watching out for me. The Captain, at least, generally has more important things to do."

"Thanks sir," said Havoc, in a tone that perfectly matched the rolling of his eyes.

"How did your meeting go?" asked Mustang.

"I met with the Headman and Cleric Bozidar," reported the Major. "They would like to know how you got the Stone. They thought Dr. Marcoh had it."

"He did. He gave it to me to help with the Ishvalan Restoration," Mustang answered.

The Brigadier's voice and face gave nothing away, but Falman and Fuery looked upset about something, and Breda's and Havoc's faces suddenly went totally blank. Only Hawkeye's face was unchanged, probably because her normal expression was so unreadable. The Major resolved to talk to Falman, or track down Marcoh, after this meeting.

"So what does the Headman think?" asked Mustang. "Did he give you any idea who should get the Stone?"

"The Cleric will take it, and then they'll have an Alchemist destroy it to release the souls," said Miles. "The Headman is working out who the witnesses should be."

"Good," Mustang said, seeming relieved. "I was worried the Headman might want to keep it and use it himself. They'll want an Ishvalan Alchemist. Will they use Little Brother, or do they have someone else in mind?"

Miles paused. Mustang knew about Little Brother?

"Come, come, Major," Mustang said impatiently. "Of course you've been followed. We know you traveled down here with another Ishvalan that people call Little Brother, and we know that he was the eyewitness that told you about these." He lifted his hands briefly, and then went back to alternating between rubbing them or, by what looked like sheer force of will, holding them still.

Miles cleared his throat. "I don't know if they have any other Alchemists available, but I think they would definitely prefer to have Little Brother do it. They think that if you, personally, give him the Stone and he destroys it, they'd be able to satify some of the more radical elements of their community."

"Not a bad idea. But it puts me in a difficult situation," Mustang mused. "It has to be publicly obvious that I know who he is for the scenario to work, and yet if I make it pubicly obvious, I have to work out a way to avoid arresting him."

"Not to mention we should also have a ranking military witness to the destruction of the Stone," said Breda, "who would then also see Little Brother."

"What about the Brigadier General?" asked Miles, surprised. "He'll be there."

"Well," said Roy, with a wry smile, "if you can figure out how I could be an eyewitness to the destruction of the Stone, we'd all like to hear about it."

The Major felt his face go hot with embarrassment.

Then Falman spoke. "We thought about having the Brigadier hold the Stone while it was being destroyed, but besides being dangerous, that would also bring up possible charges that he'd transmuted it himself instead of letting it be destroyed."

"And if he held it in his open hand, to make it visible to all the other witnesses, how could he tell the difference between the Stone being destroyed and someone just lifting it out of his hand?" continued Havoc.

"I still think the best solution is to promote Captain Hawkeye to Brigadier General. Then she can be the witness," said Roy.

"Which of course would require you to be promoted to Lieutenant General at the very least," Hawkeye said.

"A sacrifice I am willing to make," Roy said solemnly.

Miles started to chuckle. The speed with which these people could move from the deadly serious to the utterly inane was breathtaking.

"That can't be our Briggs man, can it?" said Roy in mock surprise, smiling.

"Brigadier, please put the gloves on," Miles said. "What about Major General Armstrong as your witness?" 


	12. Chapter 12

Major Miles caught up to 2nd Lt Falman in the Central Library. He was sitting at a table taking notes from a book about Riviere military history. He also had two other stacks of books neatly arranged beside him: one with books about Ishval and another with introductory texts on Alchemy.

Falman looked up briefly when the Major sat down across from him, but lowered his head again right away. He thought he had a lead on a system that might make it possible for the Brigadier to read again, and right now he wasn't particularly happy with the Ishvalan Major. Or Ishvalans in general.

"Second Lieutenant Falman, could I have a word with you?" asked Miles.

Falman looked up from his book and looked the Major in the eye, but said nothing. This member of Mustang's team was no longer playing friendly and helpful.

"Why did Dr. Marcoh give Brigadier Mustang the Stone?" he asked.

"He told you, sir," answered Falman. "It was for the Ishvalan Restoration." The 2nd Lt continued to give the Major his attention, but was clearly waiting for him to be done so he could get back to more important work.

"And you don't approve of using the Stone to help restore Ishval?" prodded Miles.

"Look, Major, I didn't do anything to anyone; I don't owe anyone atonement for sins," he answered. "Restoring Ishval is a good thing to do, but I don't like to see the Brigadier giving up his sight for it. Especially when he lost his sight fighting for all of Amestris, Ishvalans included."

"What does his sight have to do with the Stone?" asked Miles.

"It's the only thing we've come up with so far that has a chance of restoring his sight," said Falman. "It works as a payment at the Gate of Truth. But we don't know what happens to the souls in a Stone that's been left at the Gate as a payment," he admitted.

"So Dr. Marcoh actually gave him the Stone to restore his sight?" asked Miles.

"Well, his condition was that once the Brigadier got his sight back, he'd do the things for the Ishvalans we're working on now," said Falman. "As if the Brigadier needed that kind of incentive," he added in disgust. "And now he's throwing that chance away anyway, so I'd really like to get back to my work here, Major."

"If Major General Armstrong hadn't disobeyed orders, I'd be one of the souls trapped in that Stone right now," Miles reminded him.

Falman put a piece of paper in the book he was reading to mark his place, and closed it. He wasn't really angry at the Major, but even though everything had turned out so well on the Promised Day, everything still seemed to be all wrong. "I know, sir. I just thought we could find a way to get the Brigadier's sight back and release the souls too. But that wouldn't be enough, would it?"

Major Miles was silent. Falman opened his book again and went back to work. He didn't notice when the Major left.

* * *

It had been a bad morning. First of all, he'd overslept. Then, trying to make up time, he had cut himself shaving.

Fortunately Havoc, who usually picked him up in the morning to take him to Headquarters, had gotten into the habit of coming to the door and giving him a once over. He'd noticed the piece of cotton still stuck to his face, and also straightened his left cuff, which had gotten twisted.

"I didn't bleed on anything, did I?" Roy asked.

"No, Brigadier," Havoc answered, putting the grin in his voice as well as on his face. "Just a sec." The 2nd Lieutenant straightened a pair of shoes that weren't lined up exactly, and picked up some coins that had fallen to the floor. The Brigadier was a neat man by habit, but it was even more important now. If anything was out of place, he could trip, or worse, never find it again.

"Stealing my money?" Roy joked, but his heart wasn't in it.

"How do you think I can afford all these cigarettes, sir?" Havoc returned.

He followed the Brigadier down the steps. When they were at the exit from the building, he stepped past him and went to the car, letting him know when to cross the sidewalk to the car. The passenger side door was perfectly lined up to the door to the apartment building, as always.

The thing had been destroyed. It had gone well, all things considered, and Roy hadn't disgraced or made a fool of himself. They'd accomplished what they'd hoped to. But now, his last chance to recover his sight was gone. And he was going to continue being a burden on his subordinates. There was a reason blind soldiers were supposed to retire.

It wasn't unusual for a General officer to have a chauffeur, but Roy thought of all the other extra work he made for everyone. The brunt of it fell on Havoc and Hawkeye; one or the other was always with him when he was in uniform. But it also affected Falman, who kept looking for ways for him to do things without sight, and Fuery, who continually maintained and improved his earpiece and the transmitters. Breda was probably the least affected, he mused.

The staff car stopped. Havoc usually stayed in the car and watched until the Brigadier had made it to the door, to let him know about any people around him on the way in, before he went on to park it. But this time, as often happened, someone else took over for him.

"Captain Hawkeye, sir," Havoc warned. "You'd better get going."

Roy didn't want to move, but he'd been in battle before. Sometimes you just had to will one foot in front of the other. He opened the door and stepped out of the car.

"Sir, you have a meeting in fifteen minutes," she said. "You must keep moving." She recognized the look on his face. She'd seen it in Ishval. It was resigned desperation.

"Fifteen minutes?" he asked, finally extending his cane, and starting to step out.

"Yes, with Major General Armstrong," she said.

That woke him out of his lethargy. "Major General Armstrong?" he said. "That wasn't supposed to be until this afternoon." He was walking fast enough now that Hawkeye had to run to catch up.

Back in the car, Havoc sighed in relief. He'd known the Captain would come up with something.

When Roy got to his staff room, he rushed to his desk, folding up his cane one-handed, and God help anyone who stood in his path. "How much time have I got now? 1Lt Breda, what's your report?"

"Time?" asked Breda, confused. "Your only appointment today is a 2:30 debrief with Major General Armstrong about the destruction of the Philosopher's Stone."

"Captain?" Roy said, realizing he'd been played.

"I lied, sir," she answered, simply and without excuse.

He grimaced.

Then Falman laid some paper on his desk, touching one edge of the stack to his left hand. "Here's 1Lt Breda's report, sir," he said. "I typed it up for you."

Roy frowned. What the hell was he going to do with a typed report? Then he felt the paper. It had a strange texture, bumpy.

"It's called 'night writing', something the Rivierans came up with during our war with them in 1558," he said, immensely pleased with himself. "Each letter of the alphabet is represented by a configuration of six raised bumps in a 2x3 array. You read it with your fingers - without light."

"That really is 1Lt Breda's report," he continued, "but you should probably start with this." He put another sheet of the thick paper under the Brigadier's right hand, and moved his hand to the top left corner. "That's the alphabet. A, B, C."

"Why thank you, 2nd Lt," said Roy. "Do you have any fascinating stories about the adventures of Tom and Sally and Spot?"

As always, it took a moment for Falman to catch on to the Brigadier's ribbing. But Roy was fascinated. "Night writing," he muttered to himself, moving his fingers over the page. "D, E, F, G."

-  
Author's notes:  
"The Braille system was based on a method of communication originally developed by Charles Barbier in response to Napoleon's demand for a code that soldiers could use to communicate silently and without light at night called night writing."  
.org/wiki/Braille


	13. Chapter 13

In the aftermath of the Promised Day, Major Alex Armstrong was finally promoted to Lieutenant Colonel and made head of the Investigations Division at Central. His subordinates included Captain Fokker, Second Lieutenant Maria Ross, Major Sergeant Denny Brosh, and Private Second Class Sheska.

After pushing through the Ishvalan Restoration Act, Brigadier General Roy Mustang was transferred to East as Commanding Officer, taking with him Hawkeye, Breda, Falman, Havoc and Fuery. Also in East were 1Lt Rebecca Catalina and Warrant Officer Charlie Sopwith, who had been with him in Ishval.

When he got there, he created a new Office for Ishvalan Relations with Major Miles in charge. Detailed to work with the Major were 1Lt Breda and 2Lt Havoc. At East City, the Ishvalan Relations Office was just a second desk for the use of Major Miles, and the two tables that Breda and Havoc already had, in the Brigadier's staff room. In the field, it was considerably larger.

The field Office was in a large tent with a packed dirt floor in the Gunja district, chosen because it had suffered less damage than either the Kanda district, cleared by the Red Lotus Alchemist, or the Daliha district, cleared by the Flame Alchemist. On one side of the tent Major Miles had his desk, a bookcase, and a file cabinet, and Breda and Havoc each had their tables. A flap covered a small entrance to the tent located to one side of the Major's desk.

On the other side of the tent, the dirt floor had been packed about three feet higher, and was covered with Ishvalan rugs and cushions. That was for the Ishvalans that worked with the Office, although none were directly employed by it. Mistress Shan, who had returned from Xerxes with some young people she called her grandchildren, an Ishvalan word that could refer to all clan members of that generation, was often there. Little Brother and Cleric Bozidar were also frequent visitors. The Headman from Central came only when absolutely necessary.

The main entrance to the tent was on the far side from the Major's desk, between the Amestrian-style half of the tent and the Ishvalan-style half.

It was the first time Roy had visited the Ishvalan Relations Office in the field. 2Lt Havoc had managed to send him a table-top scale model of the tent interior, so he had a pretty good idea of where everything was. Miles and Breda had provided extensive reports on who was likely to be there and how things were run, which Falman had typed up on the NightWriter. He'd read them over so many times he'd probably memorized them by now. He'd come at a time of day when there would most likely be only the members of his own team there, so he could familiarize himself with the tent in person before he had to deal with the rest of the world.

The jeep stopped right in front of the tent during the midday heat. Captain Hawkeye put on her headset and Roy put in his earpiece. Immediately he heard Havoc's voice, telling him who was inside the tent.

"Damn," said Roy. "Miles and Mistress Shan are there. I was hoping we could keep it to just the four of us to start out."

Hawkeye got out of the jeep on her side, went around the back of the vehicle, and opened the door on the Brigadier's side. Roy stepped down and offered her his arm, so she could guide him. They had already determined that the dusty gravel road was impossible to navigate with his cane. "If I've got an audience, I don't want to know," he growled to her under his breath. What made it worse was that under much different circumstances he would have loved to have her on his arm.

Breda opened the tent flap, and Hawkeye and Mustang stepped in. It was much darker in the tent, temporarily blinding Hawkeye, so that she didn't notice the edge of a rug in front of Roy when they moved further into the tent.

Major Miles was walking toward the flap to greet the Brigadier when Roy tripped over the rug and fell right into him. As he was disentangling himself, having at least managed not to fall, he heard "Little Brother just entered the tent from the back entrance," in his ear from Havoc.

Miles had never seen Mustang outside his familiar territory, where he could arrange everything carefully. It was a shock to see him guided by his Captain and tripping on a rug. He forgot his greeting.

"No need to report, Major," said Roy, wanting to forestall a salute which, the way things were going, was not likely to turn out well. "Maybe you'd better get me to a chair before I bring down the tent."

"Glad you could make it, sir," Miles finally got out, and motioned Hawkeye to some chairs by his desk.

But the two of them had only taken a couple of steps in that direction when a voice came from their right.

"Young Mustang," the old woman's voice addressed him. "Have you no respect for your elders?"

Hawkeye turned him to face the wizened woman with the eyepatch, sitting cross-legged on a pillow on the rug on the raised side of the tent.

"Mistress Shan," he said, bowing stiffly in the Amestrian style. "I am honored."

He straightened up, but she said, "No, young Mustang, do it properly. Here is my hand."

For a moment, Miles was worried that Mustang would kiss her hand as if she were an Amestrian lady, or even shake her hand like an Amestrian merchant. But he'd been well briefed by Falman and Breda. He took the old woman's hand, made the same stiff Amestrian bow as before, and this time pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. "Blessings, grandmother," he said, using the Amestrian translation of the Ishvalan phrase.

"Be blessed, young man," she responded, in Ishvalan.

Breda smiled to himself, self-satisfied. The Brigadier was the first non-Ishvalan Amestrian that Mistress Shan had offered her hand to. He'd dropped a hint that Mustang would know what to do and hoped for the best. Little Brother, catching Breda's eye, nodded slowly and left the tent. 


	14. Chapter 14

Bozidar, High Cleric, but not Prophet of Ishvala, was disturbed. There were twenty people from Central who had been involved in drawing the circles that countered the Homunculus' interference with the alchemy of Amestris. And Little Brother himself had activated them.

Now, several of them were studying alchemy themselves, using texts from the Amestrian soldiers and writings from Little Brother's brother. And one had gotten as far as being able to transmute simple things.

Some people had brought the Central City Ishvalan to him. The High Cleric held a pot in his hand, and remembered the conversation.

"This man has done alchemy. Has he sinned?" they asked.

"How does Alchemy profane the creation of Ishvala?" he responded with a question.

"It creates things that are unnatural," they answered.

"Alchemist, what have you made?"

The man held out a clay pot, and Bozidar took it.

Then Bozidar picked up another pot, made the ordinary way. "Is not this also unnatural? Does it exist apart from the work of human hands?"

"But the pot of the Alchemist is not the work of human hands," they said.

"Alchemist, how do you make a pot?" asked the Cleric.

"Master, first I gather the correct measure of clay. Then I draw the construction circle. Then I activate the circle."

"Can you create the pot from nothing, Alchemist?"

"No, Master."

"Can you create the pot from anything, Alchemist?"

"No, Master. I must have material suitable for my purpose in the suitable amount. I can transmute earth into a pot, but not water. It is the principle of equivalent exchange."

"What does it mean to activate the circle, Alchemist?"

"I call on the power that is in the earth, Master."

"Then you call on Ishvala himself, Alchemist?"

"It must be so, Master."

"So Ishvala performs at your bidding, Alchemist?"

"That cannot be so, Master."

The problem with Alchemy was not blasphemy against the creative power of Ishvala. Alchemists did not create from nothing - they transformed.

It was not even the perverse nature of what was created. That which was transformed could be wholesome or perverse. That perversions were among what was created was only to be expected - did not humans find a way to pervert every gift from Ishvala?

The problem with Alchemy was the source of the power used to transmute. If it was simply a power of nature, like the sun or fire or the flow of water, then the lawfulness of an act of Alchemy would depend simply on the lawfulness of the means and goals of the act, as with any other act.

It was not to be imagined that Alchemy involved calling on Ishvala as upon a servant or a beast of burden. So if the source of power was not natural, and it was not Ishvala, then it must be demonic. And in that case, every act of Alchemy was unlawful.

What was the source of the power of Alchemy? Bozidar, High Cleric issued a calling to gather testimony to resolve the question. 


	15. Chapter 15

Two years had passed since the battle that had brought down Bradley. Grumman still refused to change the Military Code to allow Mustang to remain in the military as a blind officer, but he allowed the fictitious "rehabilitation period" to be extended six months at a time. He wanted to be able to cut Roy off at any time.

Roy entered the Fuhrer's office alone, sat down in front of the desk, folded up his cane, and removed his earpiece. Captain Hawkeye had left him at the door and gone on to take care of business elsewhere in the Fuhrer's Palace. He'd left Havoc in the staff car outside, where he was probably starting another cigarette about now. Both Hawkeye and Havoc would have their headsets on, but Grumman didn't like Roy to use his earpiece in his office.

Grumman walked into the room from a side door and said, "Please, don't get up," when Roy made a move to stand.

"You've seen the report on the Cretan situation?" he asked.

"Yes," Roy answered. "It looks like Drachma is sending arms to Creta. The Cretans are starting to test themselves against our lines."

"I've got a situation map set up over here, showing our current disposition of troops," said Grumman. "To your right, five paces."

It was the first time Grumman had made a concession to his blindness. Not necessary in this case - between the Fuhrer's footsteps and his cane, he had no problem finding the table. The real problem would be the map itself. He needed his "eyes".

"You're at the North side of the table," Grumman started, but Roy interrupted him. It was a 3-D model, just like several he had back at East of various locations in and around Amestris! "Yes, this is Drachma," he said, recognizing the mountains. "And there's Briggs."

"Oh, ho," he said, carefully feeling the square markers around Briggs. "Five what? Battalions? No, 'B' is for Briggs, five tanks then. And the cones are the troops; each one must be a company." Roy smiled to himself - the Northern Wall of Briggs would not be happy when she found out he'd been shown all her forces and how they were deployed.

Roy moved around the table, identifying towns, troops and terrain. Troops and resources were identified by shape; origin was identified by a nightcode initial: B for Briggs, W for West, P for Pendleton, C for Creta, D for Drachma.

"Color-coded too, right?" Roy asked.

"Yes," said Grumman. "Do you want to know the colors?"

"Yes," he answered, making his way from the Cretan and West deployments to Central. "People have a tendency to use colors instead of names."

"Briggs is blue, West is white, Pendleton is green, Creta is black, Drachma is red."

Roy spent some time examining the map. Then he said, "We're overextended. Briggs can't keep sending that many troops into Creta - they'll leave themselves open to Drachma."

"While Drachma is just sending arms to Creta instead of troops," said Grumman.

"Yes," said Roy. "Like Aerugo did in Ishval."

"My generals noticed the similarity. And like Ishval, Creta is by far the weaker of the two, comparing Creta with Drachma."

"So we need to make peace with Creta," said Roy.

"'Conquer' was the word my generals used," said Grumman. "And they seemed to think the Flame Alchemist would be worth ten companies in the field."

Roy felt his mouth go dry. "Conquer, sir?" he asked. "Or annihilate?"

"Dead people pay no taxes," said Grumman. "I want a definite victory, and as much left over as possible to feed the treasury."

"And who will lead the campaign?" asked Roy, but he could already guess the answer.

"Major General Armstrong." 


	16. Chapter 16

Two years had passed since Al had gotten his body back. Two years to put on weight, add back muscle, see the people who needed to see him. Now it was time to collect Zampano and Jerso and travel again. Time to go east.

First they were going to the Gunja district of Ishval. The High Cleric had sent out a Calling, and a school had sprung up to study the question that was being put, gathering alchemists and alkestrists from all over. It would be a good first stop for him and the Chimeras on the way to Xing. And there were some familiar faces there that he looked forward to seeing again.

* * *

Al had gone East, so Ed was going West. He was going to start in Riviere because, hey, why not? It was in the west and it was the start of Amestris, so it could be the start of his trip now. He used to wonder what that meant for Amestris, to be built up by Father that way, but what was a country anyway but a collection of people who were connected? However Amestris had come to be in the first place, it existed now, and its citizens were connected now.

And speaking of connections, he was engaged now, wasn't he? He supposed he ought to stop somewhere and buy Winry an engagement ring and have it shipped back to Resembool. Hmmm, probably should get the package insured too, when he shipped it, because engagement rings were kind of expensive, weren't they? Maybe he could look in East City, where he planned to stop and mess with Mustang's gang first before moving on.

He sat at the train window, looking out at the countryside, feeling happy and a little bit excited. To be on a trip with no schedule and no goals and no ties. And at the same time to be tied to Winry back home.

* * *

Zampano was driving while Al and Jerso sat in the back of the jeep. Jerso had gotten the wound that had brought him to the attention of the State experimenters while he was fighting in the South, but Zampano had been wounded in Ishval, so he was doing the talking.

"We were in the Gunja district. General Mosquito was in command - I don't even remember his real name anymore - but boy, he loved those charges. It was before they'd started bringing in the Alchemists that they got me. We should be coming close to the outskirts of the main town, called Gunja of course, imaginative isn't it?"

The road was gravel, but well maintained, so it took them a while before they realized they had already passed the outskirts to the town. There were nothing but large rocks and scrub brush, but if you looked closer, the rocks were squarer than they ought to be if they were natural, and flatter. The years and the desert wind and weather had rounded off the square edges.

After that, there was a small town of tents, row after row, arranged in neat lines. Then there were a few really large tents. They stopped in front of one marked "Ishvalan Relations."

Further on, they could see people working on buildings that had been damaged in the war, either tearing them down further, or repairing them. And in the distance, they caught a glimpse of the restored part of Gunja. Neat square adobe buildings were arranged in a neat grid from the town center, and in the center two buildings stood out above the others: the domed prayer house and the flat-roofed School.

* * *

When Ed got to East HQ, he had to sign in at the reception desk and list a name. He knew Mustang was a General now, but he decided to list him as Colonel Mustang anyway.

Sergeant Fuery came down to get him.

"Hi, Ed," he said. "It's Brigadier General Mustang now, you know," he added, as they walked to the office.

"Yeah, I know," said Ed. "I thought I'd put down Colonel for old time's sake. Is he here?"

"Not just now," said Fuery, as they entered the room.

It was similar to the way it had been before, but Ed noticed a few changes. The biggest was Major, no Lt Col Alex Armstrong sitting behind Mustang's desk.

"Edward," he greeted him effusively, coming around the desk to embrace Ed. "How sweet it is to meet a fellow comrade in arms once more!"

"Let's not take this 'in arms' thing too literally," Ed muttered, using his automail leg to pry himself out of Armstrong's grip.

Besides Fuery, Falman was there too. Ed also recognized 1Lt Rebecca Catalina, and there was a new face there as well.

"You must be Edward Elric," said the new man, introducing himself as Charlie Sopwith. "I was with Mustang when he was a Major in Ishval. And I helped out a little bit two years ago, too."

"Hey, chief," came a voice from behind Ed, as Havoc entered the room. "Shoulda let us know you were coming. Breda's still in Gunja, and I'm on my way back there now. How long you gonna be here?"

"Oh, right," said Ed. "Al told me you and Lt Breda spend most of your time in Gunja these days. I'm not on any kind of schedule. I thought maybe I'd stay a day or two here before I go on. So where's Captain Hawkeye? And when is _Brigadier General_ Mustang coming back?"

"The Captain and the Brigadier are on assignment in the west for a while. We're supposed to be prepared to run this place without them for six months," said Falman, looking as if he wasn't sure that was going to be possible.

"Oh," said Ed, disappointed to have missed them both. "Well, maybe I'll catch up with them, then. I'm headed west myself. Oh, and does anybody have any ideas about a good jewelry shop around here? It looks like I need to get a ring."

* * *

Author's Note:

Charlie is supposed to the Charlie from the manga. I gave him a last name.

I'm not aware of the manga mentioning where either Zampano or Jerso were wounded, so I made that up.


	17. Chapter 17

The results of the Calling had been surprising. Ishval's location between the rest of Amestris to the West and Xing to the East made it a natural gathering place of Alchemists of both types. Then, Little Brother's tatoos and his brother's writing provided yet another form, synthesizing the other two.

It had quickly become apparent that the power that drove alchemy was a natural force of the earth, called tectonics by the Amestrian scientists and the "dragon's pulse" by the pagan Xingese. Once it had been sorted out that both were names for the same natural phenomenon, that problem had disappeared.

The High Cleric's preliminary judgment was that alchemy that transformed inanimate material to other forms of inanimate material was lawful, so long as no Philosopher's Stone was involved. The result had been the establishment of a school of Alchemy in Ishval itself, in Gunja. A fair number of Ishvalans were showing the capacity for alchemy, and it was helping enormously in the reconstruction.

The current question being considered was the role of the soul in Alchemy. It had been determined that the soul was somehow involved in channeling the natural power of the earth. And it was certain that the Philosopher's Stone increased the power that could be channeled by gathering together more souls. But what was the effect of transmuting a human soul? What was the Gate of Alchemy, and who or what was the demon there who called itself "one" or "all" or "the alchemist", or even by the blasphemous names of "god" and "truth"?

* * *

The field Office was closed to non-military personnel at the moment.

"Second Lieutenant Havoc, they're off then?" Major Miles asked, just making conversation with the newly returned officer.

"Yes, Major, on the road a week by now. But guess who I ran into the day before I left to come back? Edward Elric!"

"How's he doing?" asked Miles, partly out of interest but mostly to be polite.

"Well, he's gotten engaged to Winry, and he's on his way out west."

"I was wondering when that would -" said Breda, then "He's going out WEST!"

"Kid's got a knack for heading into trouble, doesn't he?" said Havoc. "He thinks maybe he'll meet up with the Brigadier and the Captain in West City. On the bright side, he's actually headed for Riviere, not Pendleton."

"That's something," said Breda, still frowning.

"Yeah," said Havoc. "I didn't have to tell him to stay away from there because the Brigadier's doing his human weapon thing ..." But the grin faded and Havoc found he couldn't joke about it.

"This is different," said Breda. "The targets are military." But he sounded like he was trying to convince himself of that fact.

Havoc took a drag on his cigarette and looked at the Major out of the corner of his eye. "They were last time, too. To start out with."

"There will be no mass slaughter of civilians in Creta," Major Miles said with assurance. "Major General Armstrong is in charge."

Havoc dropped his cigarette to the dirt floor and crushed it with his boot. He gave the Major a look so cold that Miles found himself suddenly very aware of the distance between the Lieutenant's right hand and his holster.

Breda's eyelids lowered slightly and he looked slowly from Havoc to Miles, a small, humorless smile on his face. "We knew that, sir," he said, calmly. "But it's good to know Briggs will be on our side, again."

Havoc took a deep breath and lit another cigarette, looking ruefully at the half-smoked one he'd just crushed. "It's not just civilians," said Havoc. "I just wonder how much of this has anything to do with Creta and how much is from ... other stuff."

"Creta is weak," said Miles. "It's always taken aggression from us to make them fight in the past."

"So why are they fighting now?" asked Havoc.

"Because Drachma is giving them weapons," said Breda. "And I'm guessing that someone has convinced them that once we've got Ishval taken care of, we'll do the same thing to Creta: annihilation and then rebuilding. They've decided to act while we're preoccupied."

"Sending in the Flame Alchemist isn't going to calm their fears, then," said Miles, "however appropriately he's deployed."

"What they really need out there is a diplomat," mused Breda. "Neither side really wants to fight. If we could just agree on a boundary and trust each other ..."

"Brigadier Mustang is actually not bad at getting former enemies to trust each other," said Miles, and it seemed to him that he hadn't been aware he thought that until he had said it out loud.

* * *

"Your majesty," said the ambassador from Drachma. "The Amestrians are sending in the Flame Alchemist. You know what that means."

"No, I don't!" the king answered with irritation. "The Amestrians are rebuilding Ishval. They've tacitly admitted the Annihilation Campaign was excessive."

"Then why would they be sending him?"

"Oh, because he's worth a dozen companies, or a squad of tanks, maybe?" retorted the king sarcastically. "Damn, I wish I had that kind of firepower in a single person. Didn't they take care of all of Ishval with only about ten of them?"

"Closer to twenty," the ambassador corrected. "Supported by conventional troops. And the only surviving State Alchemists from that campaign that we know about are the Strong-Arm Alchemist and the Flame Alchemist himself. Apparently an Ishvalan terrorist with the alias of Scar took care of the rest."

"And the other one, the Fullmetal Alchemist, who wasn't in Ishval - something happened that took his Alchemy away," said the king. "I suppose that would be almost as good. If I can't have my own squad of Alchemists, at least I could make sure Amestris doesn't either."

The King of Creta was an ugly man. Some of it was genetics. He had a lazy left eye, crooked teeth, and ears that stuck out so much it look like he should be able to hang glide with them. Part of it was temperament. He hated exercise, so he tended to be overweight. And he had no patience with tailors, so except for his ceremonial robes, his clothes tended to be plain and baggy. And part of it was an assassination attempt when he was seventeen that had scarred most of the right side of his face and neck.

The royal family of Creta had been complacent. Their warlike neighbor had been preoccupied with other targets for centuries. There were occassional border skirmishes over the years, but Creta had always seemed to fly under the radar. Until the civil war with Ishval had taken a nasty turn.

Then, for some reason, just when Creta should have lain low, his father had started acting erratically. He banished or executed for treason generals with years of experience, and replaced them with idiots full of bloodlust. He couldn't even blame the Amestrians too much - he was sure at least half of their casualties were caused by their own incompetent leaders.

Then, a little over two years ago, something had happened. Bradley had been assassinated, some factions within Amestris had staged a coup and a counter-coup, and things had died down remarkably. His father had seemed to come to his senses, and horrified at what had happened, had killed himself. And now his third child and oldest son was king at the age of 25.

He'd had a hell of a mess to clean up. He'd brought back the banished generals and tried to neutralize the bad ones as best he could, without alienating the nobility. He was making progress, and given time ... That was when the ambassador from Drachma had shown up, bearing gifts - of arms.


	18. Chapter 18

A sergeant from the Fuhrer's office drove Brigadier Mustang and Captain Hawkeye to North City and then to Briggs in a limousine with bullet-proof one-way glass for the passenger section windows. The hours the two spent on the road were still hardly enough time to go through all the information they had.

Lt Col Armstrong had provided them with 3-D maps of Briggs floor plans and of Creta, created using alchemical techniques "passed down the Armstrong line for generations". 2Lt Falman had provided books and maps on Creta and a report he'd managed to get typed on the NightWriter summarizing Creta's history and the current government.

When they got to North City, 1Lt Breda's report on what he'd learned while assigned in the Cretan war zone caught up with them. He'd sent it through East, so that it got typed up on the NightWriter as well. Also in North City, they both had a chance to check in with everyone in the East office and in the Ishvalan Relations Office in Gunja.

When they finally got to Briggs, Roy and Captain Hawkeye were dropped off at the sentry gate of Fort Briggs. The enlisted woman on duty inspected their papers and assigned them to a senior officer's suite in the Visiting Officer Quarters, which was housed not far from the gate. She sent an enlisted man to take their luggage to the suite, and then gave them each an information packet.

When they reached their assigned quarters, Hawkeye entered first, coming into the common room that had a meeting table, chairs and bookshelves. To the right was an open door to a small office with barely enough room for a desk and chair, beyond which, she knew, would be the General's bedroom. To the left, an open door showed a long room with four twin beds, for the officer's staff.

"Looks like the standard floor plan so far. Your rooms are to the right, mine is to the left. The private put all the luggage to the right of the door. Why don't you take a look around here while I put our bags away?"

She dumped her suitcase and garment bag on the floor of the staff quarters, then took Roy's suitcase and garment bag through his office to the bedroom. The suitcase she set on the bed and opened; the garment bag she hung up in the closet. Meanwhile, Roy went over the meeting room with his cane.

"There's a vase of flowers on the table, Captain," Roy said when she was back. "I'm not good at recognizing flowers that aren't roses. What are they?"

"They look like blue hyacinths," said Hawkeye. "And there's a note." She read it out loud. "Welcome to Briggs, Brigadier General Mustang. These fit you better than they do me."

"Blue hyacinths," said Hawkeye. "They fit you well enough, but I'd say they fit Major General Armstrong at least as well - games, sports and blue for constancy."

"Really?" said Roy with a calculating smile. "Is that what they mean?"

"What did you think they meant?" Hawkeye asked. "You must have given her some before if she gave you these."

"I don't know any flower meanings beyond red and yellow roses," he said. "Hyacinths were what I had and I just made something up to make sure she'd destroy the card."

"What did you make up?" Hawkeye asked, curious.

"Nothing important," Roy answered, suddenly evasive.

Hawkeye would have none of that. "I think I should know, Brigadier," she said firmly.

He swallowed. "I told her they meant feminine grace and beauty."

"That's not so bad," Hawkeye said, "although I suppose coming from you ..."

"Ah, well," he equivocated. "I do have a reputation to uphold."

Then she started to laugh. "Fit you better?" she snorted.

"As you said, they really have to do with sports," he interjected.

"Grace and beauty," she said, no longer trying to stop her laughter. "Not too bad, really, sir."

Roy tried to maintain some semblance of dignity. "I'm glad you agree, Captain," he said, then couldn't help chuckling himself. "Although I think I'm going to take grave offense if you agree with the 'feminine' part."

He lifted his hand to her face to check her expression. Her cheeks were smiling and a bit damp. Yes, he'd seen her laugh so hard before, that the tears came. It had been quite a while since that had happened, though.

Suddenly, he felt very happy.

"Now that we've both had a nice laugh at my expense, shall we take a look at our packets?" he said, and they both sat down at the table.

The Captain opened her packet and started with the schedule. "There's nothing until tomorrow morning at 0900. Evening mess starts at 1800, that's in an hour, and goes until 2000. Officers Mess is three floors up and two corridors over. And there's an agenda for the meeting tomorrow."

"Is there anything different in mine?" Roy asked, handing his packet to her.

"Well, it's certainly thicker," she said, opening it. Then she was silent.

"Captain, what is it?" he asked, then said "Oh!" as she handed the opened packet back to him. The contents were all in night writing.

* * *

You're sure about this?" asked the Headman, pacing in front of the window. The bottom floor of the meeting house was for large meetings. He, Little Brother, Mistress Shan and the High Cleric were in a small, private room on the second floor. From the window, he could see the dome of the prayer house and the open space of the town square with its well.

"I've seen him. If he can't avoid making that same mistake again, he'll die trying," Little Brother answered.

"Which would be worse," said the Headman. Then he added "for us" when he saw the look the High Cleric gave him. Bozidar's look did not change.

Just then, Major Miles passed the guard at the door and entered the room. "I'm here," he said. "What is it?"

"We're discussing what to do about Mustang," said the Headman. "He's been sent to Creta."

"Yes," said Miles, sitting down on one of the rugs. "I know. What is your concern?"

"What do you think?" said the Headman, looking down at Miles from his place standing by the window. "Mustang is in charge of the Restoration. He's the man you all report to here. And we've just heard he's been sent to a war zone! What happens to us, and the Restoration Project, if he dies? Do _you_ have the authority to take over?"

The last thing Miles had expected was concern for Mustang's safety. "I ... don't know," he said. "Knowing the Brigadier, or the Captain at least, they've made arrangements ..."

"That you don't know about," interrupted the Headman, irritated.

"That's enough," said High Cleric Bozidar. "If it is permitted, Major, can you tell us why young Mustang has been sent to Creta? Is the Fuhrer displeased with his work here?"

"No, I've heard of nothing like that. If anything, things are moving along more quickly than anticipated," Miles answered. "Brigadier General Mustang is simply the strongest State Alchemist we have right now. They want to end the war with Creta as quickly as possible."

"I told you," said the Headman. "They're sending him to raze Creta like he did Ishval. And when he won't do it, he'll end up dead."

"They're not going to raze Creta," said Miles.

"Do you know this, my child?" asked Bozidar. The hope in his voice was palpable.

"I ... don't have access to that level of information," said Miles. "But Mustang's men are sure he won't, and Major General Armstrong is in charge, and I'm sure she won't. And Fuhrer Grumman is not Bradley."

* * *

When they got to the Officer's Mess, Roy was wearing his earpiece and Hawkeye had her headset on. Both of them put their food on Hawkeye's tray so Roy would be able to maneuver with his cane in the unfamiliar surroundings without also dealing with a tray. Hawkeye carried the tray to a table that looked reasonably easy to maneuver to, then gave Roy directions. He made it to the table without mishap.

Hawkeye had just set the food in front of her and Roy. "There's a Captain and a Major coming our way with trays," she said, but not into the headset since they were together.

Suddenly, Roy grabbed the earpiece out of his ear and threw it to the table as if it had burned him. "What the - ". His face went white and he froze, looking suddenly very blind and very lost. "Someone just spoke in my ear," he said.

Hawkeye scanned the room, looking for another headset, and found it. "I see him, sir. A warrant officer, ten paces behind you near the wall, at 6 o'clock." The Warrant Officer waved at her.

Roy put the earpiece back in, just as the Captain and Major made it to their table. "Welcome to Briggs, Brigadier General Mustang, Captain Hawkeye. I'm Captain Sverdlova," the woman said with a Drachman accent, and this is Major Scimitar."

"Please, join us," said Roy, who was over his initial shock. "Warrant Officer Karley was just telling me you're the expert on Creta here, Captain Sverdlova. I look forward to hearing your ideas on the situation. And Major Scimitar, I don't need the Warrant Officer to tell me that you're the Major General's aide. I'm fortunate indeed to have a chance to speak with you so soon after getting here."

During dinner, Roy was the picture of professionalism and charm. When he and Hawkeye got back to their rooms, however, he exploded. While he berated Major Miles with every curse he knew, Hawkeye calmly unpacked the books, maps and other materials from their luggage and arranged them on the shelves. The 3-D maps she set on the table itself. By the time he was finished ranting, everything was out.

"You might want to take a look at where everything is," she said.

"Yes, I bloody well would like to look, but I suppose I'll use this damned cane instead," he growled.

Riza sat down at the table, while the Brigadier went over the shelves with his hands and his cane. He rarely complained about his blindness, but when he did, it meant he was extremely upset.

"Major Miles should have told us this was coming," she said.

"Why didn't he, Captain?" he asked, sounding hurt.

"Directions from Major General Armstrong?" she suggested.

"Do you really think so?" he asked. The betrayal would hurt a little less if he could convince himself the Major had been ordered to keep quiet. It wouldn't have stopped his own team, but Major Miles wasn't really on his own team. Obviously.

Riza looked at him. There weren't many things that Roy Mustang couldn't shrug off, including blindness, but this was one of them.

"No, I don't," she said, unwillingly. "And if she had, she would have listened to Major Miles if he'd objected."

"You know, it wouldn't kill you to sugar-coat things once in a while," he said, but his half-hearted grin told her he was starting to deal with it. He wouldn't forget it, and the hurt would remain, but he would deal with it.

* * *

Author's notes:

I got the names for the Briggs Captain and Major form from the Wikipedia article for Blackburn Buccaneer. I couldn't find Karley's rank, so I made him a Warrant Officer.

The Supermarine Scimitar was a British naval fighter aircraft operated by the Royal Navy Fleet Air Arm. The prototype for the eventual production version flew in January 1956 and production aircraft were delivered in 1957. It saw service with the Royal Navy from 1958 until 1969.

The Sverdlov class cruisers, Soviet designation Project 68bis, were the last conventional cruisers built for the Soviet Navy; 13 ships were completed before Nikita Khrushchev called a halt to the programme as these ships were considered obsolescent with the advent of the guided missile.


	19. Chapter 19

When Roy and Hawkeye arrived at Major General Armstrong's conference room twenty minutes early, they found they were still the last ones there. There was a table with 3-D situation maps in the middle of the room, and everyone else was standing around it or sitting in chairs set back several paces from the table. Hawkeye was describing the unusual arrangements, and the middle-aged First Lieutenant with the round wire-rimmed glasses and graying beard, when Armstrong spoke.

"The situation table is five paces directly in front of you, Brigadier," she said. "I don't have the time or the resources to waste on your posturing. Everything is in 3-D or night writing and no one needs to salute in here. If you don't know where something is, you ask, and if you need to go somewhere, you take someone's arm if you have to - don't wait for directions. No one enters or leaves the room without announcing it, and you interrupt if you're not sure who's talking. Is everything clear?"

"Yes, sir, very clear," Roy said. He was actually relieved, since he had worried that the Briggs Warrant Officer would be transmitting again. "I need a table or chair I can put my own documents on while I move around the table. And will everyone already in the room give their name? Let's start from my left and move clockwise."

"Warrant Officer Karley, with the table, sir" said the soldier coming from the right. He waited until Roy had put his documents on it before moving back. "I'll be by the door you came in."

"Thank you Warrant Officer," Roy said. "Well, then, _now_ let's start to my left and go clockwise." Roy stood still and concentrated as they announced themselves.

"Captain Sverdlova." He remembered Hawkeye's description from dinner last night. She had black hair that fell just past her shoulders in a thick braid. Her watery blue eyes and very pale, lined face showed her 50-plus years clearly. Tall for a woman, she was still an inch or two shorter than Armstrong, and like every soldier at Briggs, broad shouldered and muscular.

"First Lieutenant Corsair, Research and Development. I was on the team that developed the tank." So that was who the man with the glasses was.

"Major Scimitar." Roy had been fully briefed on the officer who was Armstrong's current aide while Miles was in Gunja. He was in his thirties, very young for a Major at Briggs, where people tended to go the long way through the ranks, instead of coming out of a military Academy as commissioned officers. His hair was black and he had thin drooping mustaches and a long thin goatee. His eyes were very dark brown, as Roy's had been, and the almond shape of people originally from Xing or even further east. Like Roy's.

"And you already know I'm here. That's everyone in the room right now," said Armstrong.

"Thank you. Now if I could I have a few moments."

Roy started to go over the maps and documents on the table. It annoyed him that even though he and Hawkeye had gotten there well ahead of time, he still had to do this in front of the others. Who had clearly been given an earlier time for the meeting. Although he considered drawing the process out, his pride wouldn't let him, and he had gotten the necessary overview in just a few minutes. When he was finished, he brought the small table with his materials next to the main situation map and stationed himself there.

"The main problem with the Cretan border is the forest," Major Scimitar began. "If we can clear that, we'll have a clear shot at the Cretan army."

"The border with Amestris is 175 miles, about 150 miles of that forest," said Roy. "So I burn down the forest and Briggs takes care of the army? Then what? Even with the forest burned down, there's still no natural barrier. You'd have to station troops all along the border to enforce the peace even after you defeat the army."

"We can turn the deforested area into a barrier," said Armstrong. "A ravine or a wall. Then we only need to station troops at bridges across the ravine or gates in the wall."

"I can do that with alchemy," said Roy. "But it's not as simple as throwing up a wall or digging a trench during battle. You want this to be stable, to last. I need engineering specifications for the barriers I transmute."

"I've got them, Brigadier," said Corsair. "We'll use a series of walls and trenches. The material from the trenches can be used to transmute the walls."

"An elegant solution, First Lieutenant," said Roy, nodding. "I was wondering what to do with the material from the trenches or where to get what I needed for the walls. It's still going to be time consuming, though. Working alone, I'll probably only be able to do about a mile a day. That's five months, working straight through."

"How long would it take you to do the forest?" asked Corsair. "We want that 150 mile stretch burned down for a width of at least three miles."

"That's easy. I could start a series of fires that would have the whole area down in a matter of days," said Roy. "The problem is limiting it."

"Most of Creta is covered in forest," said Armstrong. "If they don't want the whole country to burn, they'd better come to terms with us."

"And those terms would be?" asked Roy.

"Unconditional surrender," she said. "Annexation."

"And what do you think, Captain Sverdlova?" Roy asked. "Will Creta agree to that?"

"No," the Drachman born Captain responded. "They'll risk the fire first."

"So annexation is worse than death?" asked Hawkeye.

"It's not a question of better or worse," Sverdlova answered. "It's a matter of what the king can get his nobles to agree to. He's not an absolute monarch."

"The Fuhrer told me he was interested in adding to the treasury," said Roy. "What about tribute instead of annexation? Would that be an easier sell?"

"This is Creta we're talking about," said Sverdlova. "What tribute?" They all knew how poor the country was.

"First Lieutenant Corsair," ordered Armstrong, "I need a way to limit the fire."

"Yes, sir," he answered.

"Mustang," she said, "Major Miles seems to think that you and your subordinates can come up with a way to convince Creta to surrender before we burn the whole place down. Warrant Officer Karley has radio communications set up in your suite here between you and your offices in East and Gunja. Do you have something already, or do I have to wait until our next meeting tomorrow morning?"

"We had some ideas, but I'd like to adapt them to what I've learned here," he said. Then he asked Corsair, "Can I assume you'll have a way to limit the fire?"

"Yes, sir," said Corsair. "We have a lot more experience with the cold, so we've been studying fire since we knew you were on your way here. In the mean time, do you want the specifications for the wall and trench border?"

Roy nodded. The Briggs soldiers left then, but he stayed, taking the time now to go through everything on the situation table. Hawkeye remained as well, taking notes as Roy directed. It was nearly two hours before they were back at their suite.

* * *

Author's notes:

I got the name Corsair for the Briggs engineer from the Wikipedia article for Blackburn Buccaneer. The Ling-Temco-Vought A-7 Corsair II is a carrier-based subsonic light attack aircraft introduced to replace the United States Navy's A-4 Skyhawk, initially entering service during the Vietnam War.

I got Corsair's description from Chapter 66 of the manga, Snow Queen. He's the officer that brings out the tank to use against Sloth. From what I could see of his insignia, he looked like a 1Lt, but he looked older, so I assumed he came up through the ranks like Falman. He has round wire-rimmed glasses, and a light colored beard and mustache.

The description of Major Scimitar is based on the officer to Captain Buccaneer's left, in a picture of Buccaneer leading a group of Briggs soldiers. I don't know where the picture is from, but I think it might be from the Brotherhood anime.

Sverdlova's appearance is totally my own creation. Sorry.

In the manga, Roy puts the population of Amestris at 50 million.

SneakyRuler on the Fullmetal Alchemist Discussion Board - Fullmetal Alchemist Discussion - Fullmetal Alchemist Manga at the website full-metal-alchemist dot com assumes a density of 125 people per square kilometer to come up with an estimate for the area of Amestris of 400,000 sq km or 154,000 sq mi.

Assuming Amestris is basically circular, that makes the radius of Amestris approximately 221 miles (pi x r x r = 154,000) and the perimeter of Amestris about 1,400 miles (2 x pi x r). Looking at the map showing Amestris with the countries around it, it looked to me like the border with Creta was about 1/8 of the perimeter of Amestris, which would make the border with Creta approximately 175 miles.

I couldn't find anything in the manga about what the Cretan countryside is actually like, so I just decided it was mostly tree covered, and decided that 150 miles of the 175 mile border was forested.


	20. Chapter 20

Warrant Officer Karley sat behind the desk and operated the radio apparatus. Hawkeye and Mustang were in chairs on the other side of the desk, close to the speaker and the two tabletop microphones the communications officer had set up. It was a tight fit in the small office in Mustang's officer suite.

Karley had set up a connection with Miles, Breda and Havoc in the Gunja office and Falman and Fuery in the East office.

"So the idea is to clear the forest, destroy the Cretan army, and then create a barrier," Hawkeye summarized.

"What makes you think they'll come out into the open so we can wipe them out?" asked Havoc. "Won't they still fall back to the trees? And then we're right back to skirmishes and guerilla warfare."

"And burning the whole country down," added Roy. "More options, people."

"The barrier idea still sounds good," said Miles. "Why do we have to defeat their army first? Just cut their access down to narrow, easily-defended routes, like we do in the North."

"And they'll just sit by and let us do that?" asked Havoc. "Won't they be sniping at us from the trees?"

"Well, we still need the strip of forest burned," said Miles. "They'd have to come across three miles of open space. The Briggs soldiers will be able to take care of them easily."

"So it turns into an engineering job with security guards," said Roy. "Fine with me, but that's not the clear victory the Fuhrer wanted. No unconditional surrender and no tribute."

"And it really does need to be something like that," said Breda, entering the discussion for the first time. "Creta is small potatoes compared to Aerugo. Aerugo is watching how we handle them. If we just wall Creta off, that combined with the Ishval Restoration could convince them we've gone soft. And they'd be more than happy to move the Southern war into Amestris and take a slice of us. We'd stop them, of course, but it would be bloody."

"So their king, Leksi, would he be willing to deal if he didn't have to worry about his nobles?" asked Roy.

"What deal are we offering, sir?" asked Breda.

"What _can_ we offer?" Roy said, frustrated. "Besides not burning them down? If only they had something to offer _us_ besides blood."

"Hey, I know," said Havoc. "We sneak into Creta and bury the Armstrong family fortune - "

"- passed down the Armstrong line for generations - ", everyone chimed in together, from all three locations.

"Then they can dig it up and give it back to us," he finished.

"You may have something there," said Breda.

"What?" came from all three locations.

"Slash and burn agriculture. The Brigadier clears 450 square miles for them and they use it to grow our tribute."

"Gives him land to give to his nobles, too," said Roy. "Unless farming is beneath them."

"You're a farm boy, Jean," said Breda. "What would they grow?"

"How should I know?" came the answer. "The climate out there is completely different from our farm out east."

"I'll find out," Falman put in. "You can ask that Captain Sverdlova too, can't you?"

"Do we still need the barrier then?" asked Roy.

"I think so," said Havoc. "We're not going to turn into best friends overnight. And if they develop the burned out strip, it won't be as easy to defend against - at least during some parts of the year."

"Looking good," said Roy. "Defensible border, tribute. Are we missing anything?"

"They still have to surrender," said Hawkeye.

"Of course," said Roy, "but that's not inconceivable now, is it?"

"Unconditional surrender," added Breda.

"Semantics," said Roy. "We find out what the King can't sell to his nobles, and make sure we don't ask for it."

"No problem, sir," said Hawkeye. "All they have to do is put themselves completely in our power and trust us."

* * *

Little Brother was alone with the Headman in the second floor meeting room. "That's what they're thinking about," he said.

"That's quite an engineering job," said the Headman. "Maybe we could help them out. Will you go?"

"Yes," said Little Brother. "And when it's over, I'll eliminate the Flame Alchemist."

"Are you willing to pay the price?" asked the Headman.

"Price?" said Little Brother. "More like a burden I can finally lay down."

* * *

Sig answered the phone by the cash register of the butcher's shop. "Honey," he called out, "It's Captain Hawkeye. She wants to know if you can help out west."

Izumi came to the doorway between the back of the butcher shop and the front counter. "I'm not a soldier, Sig."

"That's not what they're looking for. They need someone who's good at moving earth."

"I'll take it back here," said Izumi. "The least I can do is chat with Riza for a few minutes and catch up."

Mason was slicing some deli meat in the back, and overhead the conversation. "I'm going to end up running this place alone again, aren't I?" he grumbled to himself.

* * *

Warrant Officer Karley called Roy to the phone, which he had run through the same speaker and microphones as the radio. "Edward Elric is at the sentry post. He'd like to see you, sir."

"If he's looking for _Colonel_ Mustang, you can tell him there's no one by that name here," he said, leaning toward one of the microphones.

"Oh shit," came Ed's voice through the speaker. "He found out about that? Tell him I'd like to see his excellency, Brigadier General Mustang."

Roy smirked. "If he's got Al with him, I'll consider it. I need an alchemist, not a kid with no discernible skills. Or is his financee here? An automail mechanic is always useful."

"I know you can hear me. What do you mean, no discernible skills? I've got skills!"

"Well, at least you're not short anymore," Roy said. "I hear you're as tall as me now."

"Yeah," said Ed. "So I guess I am still on the short side. Al's a decent height, though."

"Hummph," said Roy. "I'm sorry Ed, but I've got classified information all over the place up here. If you come to see me, we won't be able to let you go until this is over. And I really can't come down there right now."

"Oh," said Ed, and Roy could hear the disappointment. "I've got something I found in Riviere. I'll send it up to you. I'm going back to the hotel. Look me up if you get a chance."

"If I get a chance," said Roy, and he meant it, although he didn't think it was likely.

A little while later, a Private from the sentry gate showed up at the door and handed him an envelope. "Just what I need," thought Roy, taking out the sheets of night writing. "Something else to read."

By the time he got to the last page, he was frantic to talk to Ed. But Ed was gone.


	21. Chapter 21

Hawkeye and Warrant Officer Karley were in the hotel room next door. The walls of the Rivieran hotel were thin enough that Karley had been able to rig up listening devices to amplify sounds from the room that shared a wall with theirs.

"Be careful, sir," she said. "I can shoot through these walls if I have to."

"We have to assume they have the room bugged, or at least someone from outside watching. Don't be hasty, Captain."

Roy went out in the hall, and then opened the door to the room on his left.

"All right, I'm here," he said, closing and locking the door, according to instructions. "Is Ed all right?"

"As long as no one else enters this room, and no one follows me when I leave, he'll be fine," came a man's voice from the far side of the room.

"I may be blind, but I'm still not easy to kill," Roy said.

"I don't want to kill you," the voice answered, sounding surprised. "I want to talk to you. The King sent me to find out the intentions of the Flame Alchemist."

"And you're just going to believe whatever I tell you?"

"Not necessarily. But I am considered a pretty good judge of people. There's a chair a couple of paces to your left. Please. Sit down."

Roy started toward the chair, stumbled, fell, and rolled in the direction of the voice. He knocked the man down, rolled him onto his stomach, and pulled his hands behind his back, transmuting ropes to bind them. Then he pulled him up and patted him down, checking for weapons. He was surprised to find that there were none.

"Are you finished?" the King's man asked, short of breath from the fall and being rolled around. "You still can't let anyone in, and you'll still have to let me go without following me."

"Let's just say I'm a little more confidant I'll leave this room alive now."

"Fine," said the King's man, sitting in a chair. "So what are they? The intentions of the Flame Alchemist?"

"The same as the intentions of Amestris," Roy said, remaining standing, so he could move quickly if he needed to. "The unconditional surrender of Creta. But Creta remains as a separate country, instead of being annexed to Amestris."

"You just said unconditional, and you're already making a concession?"

Roy shrugged. "On paper, it has to be unconditional. But we don't _want_ to annex you. It would just increase the miles of border we have to guard. And there isn't really anything in Creta worth annexing anyway."

"That's true," said the Cretan, glumly. "We poked the dragon, and now here you are."

"There were foreign agents stirring up trouble. We've gotten rid of them, but there are still the home-grown troublemakers in each country to take care of."

"Foreign agents?" the King's man asked, intrigued. "From where?"

"I don't have the authority to reveal that kind of information. But they were well able to pass as Amestrians and Cretans."

"So when we offer our unconditional surrender, what will you take?"

"You disband your military and we take 10% of your GNP per year. Or we work out the equivalent in land and move the border."

"We can't afford the 10% and the nobles are already hurting for land. But certainly, the King can sign your terms and you'll be fighting again within a month. There'll just be a new King. Or none at all, maybe."

"Then I'll have to start burning down your forests. Three miles deep, along the entire border."

"Three miles deep?" the Cretan said. "You're mocking me now, Brigadier Mustang. Creta is covered with trees. You're planning on burning it all down."

"No," said Roy. "I'm not. We're not."

There was a silence that must have been only a few seconds but felt like an eternity.

"Thank you Brigadier General Mustang. I've heard all I need to know," came the cold voice of the King's man. "Please follow your instructions. I'm leaving now."

There was another pause.

"Oh, would you untie me first?"

* * *

The King's man rode up on a horse to the house where Ed was being kept. He entered the main room, where Ed was sitting bound and blindfolded in an easy chair by the fire.

"Your friends should be here to pick you up by nightfall," he said. "Your general thought he'd make fun of me."

"Don't take it personally," Ed said. "He does that to everyone. What did he say?"

"Foreign agents are responsible for the war. And he's only going to burn a three-mile wide strip along the border. How stupid does he think we are?"

"If Mustang says three miles, it will be three miles," said Ed, shrugging. "And the foreign agent part is right, too. I met some of them."

"You did?"

"You wanted to know how I lost my alchemy, right? I can tell you the whole story, including the foreign agents. Or to be more exact, the homunculi."

* * *

Ed was sitting at the table in Mustang's officer suite. Hawkeye and Roy were sitting across from him, and he could see Warrant Officer Karley monitoring the radio in the next room through the open door.

Roy stood up. "You told him _what_!"

"It's not that much of a secret," Ed said. "It's all over Ishval, you know. Scar, I mean 'Little Brother', told his Teacher - the High Cleric now - and they talk about it in the School too. They _are_ studying the Gate of Truth and the role of the soul in Alchemy, after all."

"Are you telling me that everyone at the Alchemy School in Gunja knows that Bradley was a homunculus?"

"Well, uh, yeah," said Ed.

"What about Selim?"

"Oh," said Ed. "That could be a problem, couldn't it?"

"You think so?" Roy answered, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Hey, I just told the King's guy. Little Brother told all the Ishvalans."

"But he didn't believe you anyway," said Hawkeye.

Ed shook his head. "I guess one automail leg isn't as good a proof as an empty suit of armor."

"Well, you're stuck with us now," said Roy. "Welcome back to the military, Ed. You've just been drafted."


	22. Chapter 22

Despite spending most of his teen years technically as a military officer, Ed had rarely actually been subject to normal military discipline or even worn a real uniform. And at nineteen years old, with no special skills, it wasn't a Major's or even a Captain's. Private Second Class Ed Elric made it to the Enlisted Mess just ten minutes before it closed for breakfast. Which was better than yesterday, when he'd missed breakfast entirely. And then lunch. At least his job was familiar. He broke icicles in the morning. And then in the afternoon, he ran errands or did whatever else Mustang and Hawkeye needed him to do.

He inhaled his breakfast, sitting at a table with some other privates who had already finished theirs. They were looking at some of the weird bumpy paper Mustang read. One of them had his eyes closed and was reading it out loud.

"You can read that, sir?" he asked. Ed had taken to automatically adding 'sir' to everything he said. Everyone outranked him.

The Private First Class snickered. "I'd tell you not to 'sir' me, but then you'd probably forget the next time a Lieutenant talked to you."

Ed glared, but kept quiet.

Another private at the table said, "You're too new to know about this. Anyone who can read this stuff has preference for promotion."

"Just because Brigadier General Mustang is here?" asked Ed.

"What?" said a Corporal at the table, surprised. "Oh, I guess that's what brought it to the Major General's attention, but it was developed by the Riviere miliary, you know. And the police in Riviere still use it for night operations."

* * *

"So you can manipulate the percentage of oxygen in the air?" asked Corsair. He walked outside in the snow with Mustang, who kept a hand on his arm. "Then you can put out fires, too."

"Yes, I suppose I could."

"Let's try it, then. There's a tree at 2 o'clock, distance 10 meters, elevation 5 degrees."

Roy set it on fire.

"Okay, now remove the oxygen."

He put his hands together and then pushed his palms outward in the same direction as before, but the tree was not affected.

"I'm just getting the air nearby. I'm not sure how to throw the transmutation over to the tree."

He walked a few steps closer and tried again. It wasn't until he was just one meter away that he was able to transmute the air close enough to the tree. But when he did, the effect was astounding. It looked like someone had snuffed out the fire in the tree as if it were a candle.

"If we can make this work, sir," said Corsair, "I think we'll be setting the fires and you'll be the one limiting them."

* * *

"I've never been in a room where I couldn't read half the stuff there," Ed said, when he checked in with Warrant Office Karley that afternoon. "Did you know almost all of the enlisted guys know some night writing?"

"I'd heard," Karley said, grinning. "Do you want to learn? I can dig out an alphabet sheet."

"Yeah, I think I would," Ed said, interested. "What about the officers, though? The other guys made it sound like it was mostly the lower ranks learning it."

"The officers are learning it too. It's just not a factor in promotion for us," Karley said, with an edge to his voice.

"Why not?"

"Nothing's a factor for Warrant Officers and above, here at Briggs. The Fuhrer's frozen all promotions here because of what we did on the day of the eclipse. The Major General at least got it unfrozen for the lowest ranks, but it's still in effect for everyone else."

"That's not fair!" said Ed. "Briggs helped bring down the homunculi too!"

"Yeah, but we killed Central soldiers," said Karley. "I feel sorry for them. They didn't know what they were defending or who they were dying for."

After a pause, he added," The freeze won't last forever. It'll be tough, though, if Mustang makes it to Lieutenant General before Major General Armstrong."

"I don't think that's going to happen," said Ed. "Brigadier Mustang's under a kind of freeze himself."

"You're kidding!" said Karley. "What for? I thought he was famous for _not_ killing any of the guys at Central."

"He's blind."

"No kidding."

Ed shrugged. "The Military Code says he's got to retire. He only got promoted to Brigadier in the first place to set his pension a little higher. He's on some kind of 'provisional' status that they keep extending six months at a time, until his 'rehabilitation' is complete and he can see again. I'm pretty sure they can't promote him."

"His subordinates get promoted, though," noticed Karley.

Ed nodded.

"You know," the communications officer said, "Armstrong and Mustang have a lot in common."


	23. Chapter 23

Major Scimitar was in command of the Briggs troops and the overall operation, while Major General Armstrong remained at Briggs. Though Roy was the highest ranking officer in the field, he would be out of the operational chain of command. He was, however, the designated officer to negotiate with the Cretans in the field.

* * *

King Leksi watched the Amestrians start from a hill several miles back from the border, seated on his horse. The forest was as clear as they could get it, and they had a team of engineers and firefighters ready to try to limit the damage. They knew their business, but he didn't know how much they'd be able to do against an alchemical fire that Mustang kept renewing.

He was surprised by the Amestrians' first move, though. Instead of flames just appearing in the trees, their engineers were starting the fires in the usual way - using catapults to shoot flaming material into the forest.

* * *

The engineers had marked off a length of just a mile to burn that morning. The tricky part was going to be limiting the spread of the fire beyond that mile. Roy stood at the mile point and withdrew oxygen from the area as Corsair directed.

* * *

On the hilltop, the King and several nobles saw a remarkable sight. On the south side of the border, something seemed to be snuffing out the fire. And more remarkable still, when the Amestrians had gotten to their three-mile point, the fire just ... went ... out.

* * *

Roy could put out about a block by half a block of fire at a time. He rode in the back of Corsair's jeep and got out when they stopped, transmuted the air, and then got back in to be driven to the next point.

"Did we get it all?" Roy asked, when Corsair had stopped directing him.

"Right on target!" said the engineer, whooping. "The ground is still smoldering, so the other alchemists are transmuting a layer of dirt. We did it!"

"I don't smell any - . We didn't get any people, did we?" he asked.

Roy misinterpreted the silence. His face went rigid and his voice turned cold. "How many?" he asked. He'd never mistake or miss the smell of burning human flesh, but no doubt it was further away than he could smell, or downwind of him.

"No one, sir," Corsair finally answered. "The Cretans cleared the area, and we contained the fire. No one, sir."

"It's going to happen," said Roy. "No matter how well this goes, sooner or later someone will get caught. Please don't keep me in suspense the next time I ask, Captain."

Over the next few days, they got the routine down. They found they could do about a mile and a half or two miles a day. The engineers started the fires, Roy limited and then extinguished them, and Izumi and Little Brother constructed the barriers, the housewife digging the trench and the Ishvalan erecting the wall. Meanwhile, Briggs tanks and soldiers under Major Scimitar kept watch on the forest to make sure the alchemists and engineers were safe.

* * *

It was terrifying to watch the Amestrians make their careful, steady progress down the border. Every day, King Leksi and more of his nobles watched a handful of people accomplish feats that would have taken hundreds of their people weeks to achieve. Every day, the King found more of his nobles willing to listen to him. And he began giving out land.

* * *

Spirits in the Amestrian camp were good. Things were going well, and there were no casualties so far. But Roy was worried. They had heard nothing from the Cretans.

* * *

King Leksi sat with General Kefefs, Baron Kaj, and the Ambassador from Drachma in the royal tent, which had been moved another mile down the border.

"He said they'd stop at three miles," said the King, "and they have."

"So far," said the ambassador.

"Yes, so far," agreed the King.

"Their army is within easy reach," said the ambassador.

"Army?" snorted the General. "That's just one company detached from Briggs and a squad of tanks. And it's still more than equal to everything we've got."

"We can shoot under cover of the trees they haven't reached yet," said Baron Kaj. "It takes them time to get the fires going, and we have our own engineers."

"Idiot!" said the General. "The only reason it takes them time to get the fires going is because they're doing it the hard way, so they can control it. I've seen the Flame Alchemist in action. So far, he's been putting the fires out, but he can start them just as fast. And keep them going."

"And we can't fight from the cleared areas," said the King. "We'd be sitting ducks."

* * *

The three alchemists sat together in front of the evening campfire, along with Sig, Ed and Hawkeye.

"An engineering job with guards," Roy muttered.

"What's wrong with that?" asked Izumi, leaning into Sig's arms.

"The whole border, cleared and barriered, without a victory or a surrender. By the time we're done, we won't be able to engage them through the barrier any more than they'll be able to engage us. This is a complete failure."

"The border will be secure with virtually no loss of life," said Little Brother. "That doesn't sound like a complete failure to me."

"So are we going to do this in the south, with Aerugo, too?" asked Roy, bitterly.

* * *

The royal tent had been set up again after its nightly move down the border.

"So who is the third Alchemist?" asked Baron Kaj. "The woman doing the digging? I thought there were only two State Alchemists left, Flame and Strong-Arm."

"I was talking about veterans from the Ishval campaign," said the ambassador. "The Amestrians have more State Alchemists than that. And not all their alchemists are in the military. I don't know who the woman is. Neither she nor the other man are State Alchemists."

"The other man isn't Strong-Arm then?" asked the King, surprised.

"No, your majesty," said the ambassador. "He's the Ishvalan terrorist - Scar."

"What? You're sure?" asked the King.

"His abilities and appearance are both unmistakable," confirmed General Kefefs. "That's Scar."

"And he's working _with_ the Amestrians?" said Leksi, astounded. "With the _Flame Alchemist_?"

"He's obviously been coerced, your majesty," said the ambassador.

"Obviously," muttered the King, sarcastically. Then he came to a decision. "If that's so, then let's give him a chance to defect. I want to meet him."

* * *

A party of three Cretans, under a flag of truce, approached the Field HQ tent, escorted by Major Scimitar and four armed soldiers.

"Welcome, your majesty," Roy bowed, when they were shown into the tent. The Major entered as well, leaving his guard outside the door. Ed helped the three Cretans to their seats, then took up his own station by the door, inside the tent.

"Yes, yes, we're all so very glad to see each other," the King said. Then he added, awkwardly, "in a manner of speaking," as he looked at Mustang. "This is General Kefefs and this is Baron Kaj."

"You've already met Major Scimitar in charge of the Briggs troops," said Roy. "This is Captain Corsair, head of the engineer squad, and Captain Hawkeye, my aide." Roy didn't bother to introduce the private at the door.

"I recognize your voice," he added, although he hadn't placed it yet.

"That's not surprising," the King said. "We've met. I spoke with you two months ago in Riviere."

Just then, Ed recognized the voice as well. "You're the guy that kidnapped me!" he said. Then added, "your majesty."

"No," said the King, "I'm just the guy that had you kidnapped. I couldn't win a fight with a girl." Then he added, awkwardly, "in a manner of speaking," as he looked at Hawkeye.

"Yeah," muttered Ed under his breath. "There's a few girls I couldn't win a fight with either." Then he blushed as the King, who had obviously heard him, smiled.

"Just to be clear," said the King, "this is a parley, not a surrender. If you try to keep me from returning to my lines, it won't end the war - it will just lead to a change in leadership. General Aris would become acting commander."

"Amestris recognizes a flag of truce, your majesty," said Major Scimitar "You will be free to go in safety whenever you wish."

"Thank you," said the King. "Then I'd like to get to the point. I want to meet with Scar. Alone."


	24. Chapter 24

Down the hillside from the royal tent, out of sight of the Amestrian lines, another larger field tent had been set up. The King had called an assembly of all fifty of his nobles.

Leksi remembered talking to his General after the meeting with Scar, as he prepared to attend the assembly.

"The Ishvalan confirmed what the Fullmetal boy told me. And it's clear he's not being coerced."

"That last was never in question," the General had returned. "The Drachman Ambassador was just trying to stir things up."

"Both the boy and the Ishvalan agree that there was a shapeshifter who could have been fooling my father."

"That would explain a lot of things, your majesty," Kefifs had said.

The King was not unimpressive when he wore his ceremonial robes. Instead of looking pudgy, he looked like his size could be from muscle. The royal circlet controlled his thick hair, which his dresser had worked out a way to use so that it pinned back and covered most of his ears. The spatter marks from the acid which discolored the right side of face made him look combat seasoned. Even his lazy eye, moving in the wrong direction of its own accord, gave the eerie impression that he was watching everyone.

Leksi sat on the throne that had been set up in the assembly tent, while General Kefifs summarized the situation. Then the discussion began.

"So they're almost done," said Baron Kaj. "When they are, it will be as hard for them to fight as for us. I say we just stop fighting and go home."

"Stop fighting? What are you talking about? We haven't been fighting for weeks," said another Baron.

"So is that what everyone wants to do?" asked the King. "Turn around and go home?"

"We can't fight them anyway," Kaj said, and he was clearly speaking for many of the others. "They can have their peace."

"So it's agreed?" asked the King, serenely. "Are you happy with your newly cleared land, Baron Yehor?" he added, turning to a young man standing next to Kaj.

"Yes, your majesty," Yehor answered. "I finally have something worth cultivating."

"Indeed," continued the King, sweetly. "How kind of the Amestrians to provide it. And I suppose they'll just wave gaily at us as they march back home with their State Alchemists and their tanks? They're just that _nice_?" As he reached the last words, his voice had changed completely.

"IDIOTS!" the King bellowed, standing up. "Did you think this was all FREE?"

"But what can they do?" asked Kaj. "They've blocked themselves off."

Leksi sat back down and slumped in the throne for a moment before he remembered he had to maintain a regal appearance. Thank God his father hadn't managed to execute Kefifs, and he'd gotten him back from exile.

"General Kefifs," he said, "Why don't you answer that question?"

"What can the Amestrians do?" the General began, restating the question.

"First of all, they could salt the three mile strip, or make it otherwise useless."

"Secondly, the barriers are primarily a problem for us, not them. It took _only two_ of their alchemists _only_ a day to construct the barrier for about two miles of border. And it only took them that long because they were building it to the specifications of their engineers. If they were just tearing it down, they could easily do ten miles a day. And that's if they only use _two_ alchemists. They have more you know."

"Thirdly, that little demonstration with the fire? They could have burned all the forests in Creta the first week they were here. With just the manpower they brought. Less. Destruction is easier than construction."

"Yes," said Kaj. "But we know they don't want to destroy us. So what do they want?"

"Our unconditional surrender," said the King.

"It's a little late for that, isn't it?" asked Kaj.

"Indeed," said Leksi, going back to his sweet voice. "I'll just tell them to go ahead and salt the land. You'll like that, won't you Baron Yehor? Or wait. Maybe they'll just raze one mile of the barrier and start a _real_ fire."

Baron Kaj cringed at the sarcasm, but spoke again anyway. "If they were going to do that, your majesty, they would have done it already."

"I spoke with the Flame Alchemist before they started this campaign," said the King. "Back then, he said we weren't worth conquering. I think the point of this exercise was to make us worth something. But of course, if we don't surrender, we're not worth anything anyway, are we?"

Finally, all the nobles were quiet as the words sank in. Then Baron Kaj spoke one more time, in a more chastened voice. "What do they want? Yes, I know, unconditional surrender, but what will they take?"

* * *

Author's Note:

The names of the Cretans are Greek. "Leksi" is a form of Alexander, "Kaj" means "earth" and "Yehor" means farmer.

General Kefifs is named for a Greek-made bolt action sniper rifle designed by Hellenic Arms Industry in 1995.

General Aris from a previous chapter is named for the _Anti-tank Rocket Infantry System_, also referred to as _Aris_, which was a portable one-shot 113 mm anti-tank weapon, built in Greece and designed by the Hellenic Arms Industry in 1984.


	25. Chapter 25

The terms of the surrender included a formal ceremony at the Fuhrer's palace in Central City.

Each of the fifty noblemen, in full ceremonial dress, strode across the open room, announced himself, signed the surrender document on the table, then bent down to leave his ceremonial sword and a purse of gold at the feet of Armstrong and Mustang. After each nobleman turned to walk back, two Amestrian sergeants came forward to take the sword and the purse to their respective tables on the sides of the room.

Fuhrer Grumman and the Secretaries of State and Internal Security watched at a safe distance from the balcony above them. Hundreds of on-lookers filled the galleries on the sides, including a group from the office of the commander of East HQ and a group from the Ishvalan Field Office.

The two Amestrian Generals were seated in large, throne-like chairs. Major Miles stood at Armstrong's side once more, and Captain Hawkeye stood next to Mustang. Armstrong sat in stony silence during the ceremony, but as each Cretan nobleman rose again after laying down his sword and purse, Brigadier General Mustang addressed him by name and said "Thank you," almost as if he were accepting not a surrender but an oath of fealty.

Last to approach the generals was King Leksi XXIII in his full ceremonial robes and wearing his full crown, not a circlet. He hadn't been King of Creta for very long, only a couple of years, and now he would rule as the Governor appointed by Amestris.

He set not a purse, but a small chest on the floor, then went to the table with the surrender document. He removed his crown and set it on the table, still wearing his circlet underneath, and signed his name at the very bottom. Then he knelt in front of the two Generals, and laid the Royal Sword of Creta at their feet. He rose and turned to Mustang, waiting for his words, but this time Mustang was silent.

Instead, it was Major General Armstrong who spoke. She nodded at Miles, who brought the crown to her from the table.

"King Leksi the twenty-third," she said, holding out the crown to him, "Rule Creta well for Amestris," she said.

This was totally unexpected. The document he had just signed meant he had given up his kingship. But the Major at her right hand nodded to him, with a slight smile, so he took it. Looking back at the Major, since the Major General's face was still as expressionless as stone, he got another nod, and put it back on.

"I will, Major General Armstrong," he responded, feeling he ought to say something.

Then Miles collected the royal sword, and handed it to the Major General.

"King Leksi the twenty-third," she repeated, now holding out the sword, "Keep the peace at your border with Amestris," she said.

This time, he knew what to do. He took the sword and put it back in its sheath. Then he responded, "I will, Major General Armstrong."

Then, overcome by emotion, he fell to one knee and lowered his head. "Thank you, Generals of Amestris."

There was complete silence in the room as he knelt there. After a moment, he was able to rise and although tears were streaming down his face, he still managed a tall, regal stride back to his barons.

The room, including the galleries of onlookers, exploded in applause.

* * *

In the galleries, Rebecca Catalina asked Jean Havoc, "How did you guys pull that off?"

"It was Falman's idea," said Havoc. "He'd been talking to Captain Sverdlova, their Cretan expert at Briggs. The monarchy is a really big deal over there, and the current line has been unbroken for centuries. The hardest part of the whole unconditional surrender thing was going to be the abolishment of the monarchy. But that's exactly why it _had_ to be part of the terms."

"But just because they had to agree to it, didn't mean Amestris had to enforce it," said Falman. "Breda and the Brigadier took it from there. I just told them how to modify the ceremony."

"I didn't do anything," said Breda. "I just pushed the Brigadier at the Fuhrer. The whole thing would have fallen apart if Grumman wasn't on board. And you left out Major Miles. Someone had to convince Major General Armstrong."

* * *

Fuhrer Grumman beamed as the Cretan King, newly crowned by an Amestrian General, returned to his nobles. "What do you say to that, Otto?" he asked the Secretary of State. "He agreed to the end of their centuries-old monarchy, we have it on paper. Is that a definite enough victory for you?"

"You've done it again, Northrup," the General answered. "Not just unconditional surrender, but true allies as well. I didn't think it was possible to do both at the same time. I finally have some leverage to use on Aerugo."

"You're looking at your replacement, Otto," Grumman said. "As soon as that boy gets his eyes taken care of, I'm giving him your job."

"Still on about that, old man?" said the Secretary of Internal Security. "I wouldn't plan on an early retirement, Otto."

"It's too late for an early retirement," grumbled the Secretary of State. "Northrup already pulled me _out_ of retirement for this job. Can't we just take him as he is? I want to get back to my flowers and my bees."

* * *

Now that Roy was back at East HQ, Lt Col Alex Armstrong was back at his own office in Central, where he had left Captain Fokker in charge.

It was crowded in the Brigadier's staff room. Breda and Havoc and Miles were all there at the moment. They'd be leaving for Gunja sometime in the next few days.

First Lieutenant Catalina brought in the mail for the day. "Promotion sheets," she said, waving them in the air before handing them to the Brigadier.

It was just a formality. If it was addressed to him, they handed it to him, even if he couldn't read it. "Read them out, Captain Hawkeye," he said, smiling as he handed them to her. He'd gotten a lot of capital out of the Cretan campaign, and used it.

"Kain Fuery. Promoted to Warrant Officer."

"Jean Havoc. Promoted to 1st Lieutenant."

Havoc whooped. "I finally caught up to you, Rebecca," he snickered.

"Vato Falman. Promoted to 1st Lieutenant."

"Heymans Breda. Promoted to Captain."

"Riza Hawkeye. Promoted to Major."

She paused, having reached the bottom of the sheet.

"I'm sorry, First Lieutenant Catalina, Warrant Officer Sopwith," Roy apologized. "You're still on the regular schedule, because you weren't involved in Creta."

Miles congratulated the others. They'd have to lift that freeze some day.

"Wait, everybody, there's another page," Hawkeye said, then continued. "George Miles. Promoted to Lieutenant Colonel."

Now the others were congratulating him too, but Miles stood there stunned.

"I'm ... still assigned to Briggs, aren't I?" he asked, not quite understanding.

"Yes, but I can change that if you want me to," said Roy, beaming. That had been the hardest promotion to swing.

"No offense, sir, but please don't," he said. "What about the Major General?"

"I hear she's finally made Lieutenant General," said Roy, smirking.

"Is the freeze off, then?" Miles asked.

"Not exactly," answered Breda. "But we got it lifted for the Briggs officers that were involved in Creta. It's progress."

Miles nodded his head and smiled. "Yes, it's progress."

"That's it, folks," said Hawkeye. "If you're not busy, I can find something for you to do."

Everyone scattered. None of them spoke about the one promotion that never went through.

* * *

Author's Note:

I couldn't find Grumman's first name anywhere, so I chose "Northrup" because of the Northrup Grumman company.

I couldn't find a first name for Miles, so I just called him George because it's a plain common first name to go with his plain common last name. I was actually hoping to get through the whole story without having to come up with his first name.

No particular reason for the name Otto.


	26. Chapter 26

Brigadier Mustang and Major Hawkeye stepped into the passenger section of the staff car that would take first him, and then her, home. Falman had left the Brigadier a note in night writing that Havoc had arranged a car for them instead of driving himself.

They were going over some notes for a meeting the next day when Hawkeye looked up and noticed they were on the wrong street. "Sergeant," she said, knocking on the glass barrier between the driver and passenger section. "I think you missed your turn."

"Oh, I'm sorry sir," said the driver. "I'll turn around up here."

"Thank you, sergeant," she said, looking at the driver's profile. The last thing she thought before she lost consciousness was that there must be Ishvalans joining the military again. The driver had red eyes.

* * *

When he came to, Roy's hands were chained to a short block of metal to prevent him from bringing them together.

"Major Hawkeye, are you here?" he asked, bringing himself up to sitting position.

"Havoc here, sir. She's still unconscious. Her body mass is less than yours, so it will take a little longer for the drug to wear off. Besides me, Miles is here, and Breda, Falman and Fuery. We're all disarmed, but you're the only one who's bound at all. We're confined behind bars on one side of a large room with no windows."

"So we're all here," said Roy. "You must be sorry you came on board, Lieutenant Colonel."

"No sir," said Miles. "But this doesn't look good. There are two transmutation circles on the floor on the other side of the bars."

"And nobody's bound but me? I suppose that means that none of you have the means to unlock me?"

"Let me try, sir," said Fuery. "A lock is just a mechanical device after all."

He had broken off one of the metal earpieces from his glasses and was trying to jimmy the lock, when Hawkeye groaned and started to come to. Roy brought her up to speed, then got a description of the circles.

"Human transmutation," he said. "Hell."

Then they heard voices outside the room.

"They're all here, then?" It was Little Brother's voice.

The door to the room opened, and Havoc named off the people who were coming in. "Little Brother, the Headman, High Cleric Bozidar, and ... Mistress Shan."

Little Brother took in the sight of Mustang's entire team, unarmed and behind bars, each one looking calm, cold and ready to spring.

"I told you to _invite_ them, not _kidnap_ them," he said, furious. "We can't _force_ him to do this!"

"That's comforting," said Roy, coldly. "Would you mind releasing us then?"

Little Brother went up to the bars and reached for the block of metal keeping Mustang's hands apart, but Hawkeye pushed the Brigadier back, and Havoc stood between Mustang and the bars.

"I think all we really need are the keys," said Havoc, coolly.

Little Brother looked at the Headman, who brought the key.

"Drop it through the bars," Havoc directed.

Fuery picked it up and started to unlock the metal block. Before he was finished, Little Brother had touched the bars of the holding cell and disintegrated them.

Within seconds, Havoc and Miles had him on the floor with his hands behind his back, while Breda and Falman each grabbed one of the Headman's arms and Hawkeye closed and locked the door.

"Little Brother and the Headman are immobilized," Fuery reported as he finished unlocking the block. "Hawkeye's got the door. Little Brother isn't struggling, but the Headman is."

"Vector to the Headman," said Roy, and suddenly the Headman froze, staring at the blind general in terror.

"Facing you. I'm on his right," said Falman.

"His left," said Breda.

Roy put his hands together, then moved his palms outward. The man collapsed.

"Is he dead?" asked the High Cleric, stunned.

"No," said Roy, with a hard smile. "I just put out the fire. He'll get his breath back in a moment. Mistress Shan, are you all right?"

"Yes, young Mustang," she said, but Roy could hear the quiver of fear in her voice. Some of the hardness left his face.

"Fuery, make sure Mistress Shan is comfortable. Hawkeye, are you and Havoc armed yet?"

"No, sir, they were all unarmed," she answered.

"Really?" Roy said, surprised. "Well, I have plenty of metal here." He transmuted two guns and bullets from the iron bars. Hawkeye took one and handed the other to Havoc.

"Havoc, Miles, how are you?"

"He's not struggling," said Miles, "but we probably couldn't hold him for long if he did."

Roy transmuted the iron block they had used on him into manacles. "Would these help?" he asked, holding them up.

Hawkeye took them from the Brigadier and clapped them on Little Brother's hands, behind his back.

The complete change from captives to captors had taken no more than five minutes.

Once he was manacled, Havoc and Miles let go of Little Brother and he sat up.

"I'm truly sorry," he began, but was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Little Brother, we're here!" came a familiar voice.

"Izumi?" Hawkeye asked, surprised.

"Riza?" came the response. "You're there already? Then the Brigadier must be too. Someone's locked the door. Could you open it for us?"

"Are you all right?" Hawkeye asked. "Who's with you?"

"Sig and Ed. Al and Mei were in the car right behind us. What's wrong? Why wouldn't we be okay?"


	27. Chapter 27

Half an hour later, they finally had it sorted out.

"Roy Mustang, are you willing to trade your Gate of Alchemy for your sight?" asked Little Brother.

"Yes, of course," he answered. "If there's a way to do it."

"The school in Gunja has learned a lot about the Gate of Alchemy," said Al. "They don't call it the Gate of Truth, though."

"So there's a way for me to get back?" Roy asked.

"Two alchemists who do human transmutation from the same circle necessarily have their Gates connected," answered Little Brother.

"But I can't do human transmutation!"

"There is one, and only one, form of human transmutation that is lawful," said the High Cleric. "Simple transmutation of yourself only. It does only one thing: it brings you to your Gate of Alchemy. And there is no toll."

"Of course there is!" insisted Roy. He was blind, wasn't he?

"What toll did Al pay at the Gate when he got my arm back?" asked Ed. "The price for my arm was everything he had left. If he'd had to pay a toll as well, it would never have worked."

"They've done it a lot at the school, Brigadier," said Al. "I've even done it. No one's ever been forced to pay a toll. It's when you transmute the soul of another human, or try to transmute a human soul to dead matter, that you're forced to pay the toll."

"So I perform human transmutation on myself at the same time and with the same circle as another alchemist. Then I take her Gate back. Is that why Mrs. Curtis is here, then?"

"Not exactly," said Little Brother. "You can't redeem your own toll at any price. Another alchemist must pay."

"You're not making any sense," said Roy. "First you tell me I have to give up my Gate to get my sight back, and now you're saying I can't."

"Another alchemist must sacrifice his Gate to pay your toll. I will do that, but the price I require is that you do the same for another, Mrs. Curtis. The Flame Alchemist must cease to exist."

"Your Gate?" asked Roy.

"It has never been anything but a burden. But I must have your word. As soon as your sight is back, you must give up your own Gate. That is why there are two circles here."

"You have my word," said Roy, finally understanding.

Little Brother gave him instructions, which Roy checked with Al, and moved him to the correct position on the circle.

"Major Hawkeye?" he called, before he placed his hands on the circle.

"Right here, sir," she answered.

Then he, and Little Brother, were gone.

Roy felt like he was moving, but when he stopped, he seemed not to have moved at all. Then he heard a voice, like but not exactly like, one that figured in many of his nightmares.

"Little Brother. Scar," it said. "You have no name and many names. You have come here again. Will you pay a toll this time to gain knowledge from beyond the Gate?"

"I've come to pay a toll, but not for that, demon."

"You are still rude, priest of Ishvala. What toll do you offer, and what do you offer it for?"

"My Gate, for this man's sight."

"He is your enemy. You would give up your Gate for him?"

"He _was_ my enemy. But it doesn't matter either way. I have the toll. Take it, demon, and restore his sight."

Suddenly the world became blindingly white. Roy seemed to see part of a gray mass crumbling. Then he felt Little Brother guiding him and he seemed to be moving again. The world changed again. It was no longer white, but it was no longer dark either. He lifted his head and saw a burst of color.

"Major Hawkeye!" he called. He hadn't focused his eyes for years, and he was having trouble making sense of the blur.

"I'm here, Brigadier," she said. "Your eyes ... are brown again."

He lifted his hand to her face, as he'd done from time to time over the past few years. He was starting to get the hang of focusing again. Eyes, nose, mouth. He matched the blurs to what his fingers touched, and things became clearer.

"And yours are still ... brown," he said. "A different brown from mine."

"Just a minute, Little Brother," he called. "I'll get to the other circle. I'm just having trouble focusing."

He put his arms on her shoulders, and kept blinking and working his eyes until her entire face was clear and in focus.

"Why Major," he said. "You're crying. Such pure tears."

"You're useless when it's damp, sir," she answered, laughing and crying at the same time.

He lowered his hands and took a step back. "I think I'm about to become useless more often than that."

Then he smiled and moved carefully to the other circle, having trouble with his balance again as the unfamiliar sights overwhelmed his brain. He fell once, but got up again, and found the right position.

"Mrs Curtis," he called. "I think we have a date."

Once again, his hands touched a circle. Once again, there was the feeling of motion, and this time, he could tell he'd arrived by the white light. He saw a gray mass that he supposed was his Gate, and heard the nightmare voice speak to him.

"Roy Mustang," it said. "You're back again already."

"Yes, sir," he answered. "I've got a toll to pay for this young lady here."

"That is senseless. She is beyond the age for childbearing."

"She's not beyond the age to be whole again. Take my Gate and restore her."

"You are being coerced. You would give up your Alchemy for a promise?"

"You really are a demon, just like the Ishvalans say, aren't you?," said Roy. "Well duty and desire aren't _always_ opposed. Just do it!"

"As you wish. Farewell, Flame Alchemist."

Once again, he felt someone leading him, although he thought he saw the door open this time. There was a brief moment of terror, when the white light went away, and he thought he was blind again. But then the blurs were back.

He didn't even bother to stand up. He just sat there with a silly grin on his face and waited for her to come get him.


	28. Chapter 28

It took much less time for Roy to get used to seeing again than it had to learn to function without sight. His balance and focus had returned in only a few hours. The oddest thing was the sensation he sometimes had of "seeing" things twice - once with his eyes and once with this ears.

It had an effect on his team as well.

Catalina and Sopwith weren't affected much. They'd spent hardly any time with him before he'd gone to Creta.

Fuery was fine. Just as he had automatically known to report his position when Roy had gone blind, he automatically stopped now that Roy could see. And Breda hadn't done much differently anyway. His method of letting Roy know where he was had just been to stomp a little louder. Falman found himself having to stop a tendency to report his position.

But it was tough on Havoc. None of them, not even Hawkeye, had been better at making sure that the Brigadier heard what he needed to see. And now, he was still catching himself doing it. The funny thing was, Roy himself still expected it. Sometimes, when someone came to the staff room door and Havoc _didn't_ say anything, Roy would find himself looking at the person entering, then at Havoc, as if to say "Aren't you going to announce this person?" Then Havoc would grin at him, and Roy would shake his head at his own inanity.

The hardest thing, though, was Hawkeye. He caught himself looking at her all the time. It was embarrassing and it was unprofessional and it was unfair to her as an officer. It would help though, if she would frown when he did it, or make some sarcastic remark. But she didn't. She was perfectly calm, as if being stared at by her superior officer was the most natural thing in the world.

None of the members of his team seemed to pay it any notice, either. Except for Lieutenant Colonel Miles, who had a tendency to get flustered and look away. Although he seemed to do that a lot anyway, no matter where Roy was looking. The Briggs man had spent a lot of time with the Brigadier, but never when he could see.

* * *

They were meeting in the second floor room again: Little Brother, the Headman, the High Cleric, Mistress Shan, and Miles. The tattoos were gone from Little Brother's arms.

"Young Benjamin," said Mistress Shan, "it is time for you to step down as Headman."

"Damn right," glared Miles. Of all of them, he sometimes seemed the most upset about the Headman's method of "inviting" the Mustang team to the transmutation room. Of course, it didn't help that he'd had to work overtime to _prevent_ the Headman from being arrested, when he would rather have killed the man.

At least they were getting no objection from the Headman. He had seen what he had thought was certain death aimed at him.

"Yes, Mistress," he said, meekly.

"You're lucky to be alive, you know," said Little Brother, icily.

"No, he isn't!" said Miles. Ye gods, when would these people stop expecting the Brigadier to kill everyone in sight?

"I wasn't talking about Mustang," said Little Brother, giving the Headman a look that made him shiver. "Do you think I would have just freed him if I was afraid he'd kill anyone? I worked with the man for two months in Creta, you know."

The Ishvalan officer and the Ishvalan priest looked at each other and there was a rare moment of total understanding. They both smiled and then laughed. Which seemed to make the Headman even more nervous.

"If he's not Headman anymore, can I arrest him?" asked Miles.

"I'd rather you didn't," said the High Cleric, sensing the connection between the two, but not sure yet whether he should be pleased or frightened.

Little Brother turned to Mistress Shan, who had also sensed it and knew exactly how she felt. "No, young priest. Young Benjamin's punishment will be handled here."

The Headman's look indicated he wasn't sure whether Ishvalan justice would be any better than Amestrian.

Mistress Shan continued. "Young priest, are you willing to take up a name again and become the next Headman?"

Miles grimaced and shook his head at Little Brother, but it wasn't necessary.

"I don't think that would be advisable, Mistress. It's one thing for Mustang to deal with me, but another to expect Amestris to."

"I just wished to ask," Mistress Shan said, nodding. "We have another candidate."

They called in a middle-aged Ishvalan man with familiar tattoos on both arms, indicating he had completed a course in Alchemy at the school. "Is young Hirom acceptable?" she asked.

* * *

First Lieutenant Catalina had brought in the mail, and Roy was going through the stack she had handed to him. He paused over a sheet that ought to have made him very happy, but for some reason, didn't.

"Well, well," he announced to the group. "Apparently, now that I can see I'm worth something again. I've been promoted."

The room erupted in congratulations from the East HQ team. Breda, Havoc and Miles were in Gunja, so they'd hear later.

"I'll get your insignia updated to Major General," said Hawkeye, smiling.

"No, Major," he said. "I haven't been promoted to Major General. Three stars. Full general."

* * *

Author's Notes:

I've noticed no pattern in the naming of Ishvalans in the manga at all, in the rare cases where they even had names.

I finally chose Benjamin for the Headman, because of the Old Testament connection and the connotation of favorite son.

I chose Hirom for the Headman candidate, after Arakawa Hiromu sensei. I've read that she took the masculine form of her first name for her pen-name (feminine would be Hiromi, apparently). And if I understand correctly, the Japanese transliteration of "Hirom" would be "Hiromu".


	29. Chapter 29

The military pass and review in honor of the Founding of Amestris had just ended. General Mustang had been in charge of organizing it, which meant Major Hawkeye and the others had done most of the work. But it also meant he hadn't been able to get near the Fuhrer.

Soon after his promotion to General, he'd gotten another communique, requesting that he take the position of Secretary of State. He hadn't accepted or rejected it, asking instead for a meeting with the Fuhrer. Somehow, the result of that had been that Grumman had become impossible to talk to.

That was going to end today.

"There he is, with the Secretary of State," Hawkeye said, pointing him out. "Right where First Lieutenant Catalina said he'd be."

Roy nodded and moved quickly. Hawkeye matched his pace, right behind him.

Grumman looked up a moment too late, and realized he'd been caught. Might as well make the best of it.

"Well done, General Mustang," he said, trying to keep the tone informal.

But Roy clicked his heels and raised his arm in a salute and kept it there. Grumman could tell by the young man's stern look that it would stay there until he returned the salute, so he waved his hand up to his forehead in a very quick, very sloppy return.

"Otto, let's meet back at the palace," he said, trying to limit the damage.

But the Secretary of State refused to be dismissed. "So I finally get to speak with my replacement in person," he said.

Grumman winced. He hadn't told Otto that he hadn't gotten a definite answer from Roy yet.

Roy heard the undercurrents in the exchange between the two, calculating. Then he decided to turn on the charm.

"I'm so happy to have the chance to talk with _you_, sir," he said. "There are just a few more arrangements to be made."

"Exactly," said Grumman, trying to figure out what Roy was up to.

"The Fuhrer has accepted my proposal to make the Secretary of State a civilian position. It's the first step to de-militarizing the government. It'll be a shame to have to take off my uniform so soon after being promoted, but I think it's worth it. Don't you?"

Grumman glared at Roy for just a second, when Otto wasn't looking, but he pretended not to see.

"Really, Northrup?" asked Otto, who nevertheless seemed quite pleased with the news. "I didn't know you were planning on moving that quickly."

"Well, you know what they say, sir," said Roy. "Strike while the iron's hot. Besides, now that I'm not an Alchemist anymore, what's the point in my remaining in the military?"

Grumman knew when to concede defeat. "As soon as we get the classification changed, you can retire again, Otto."

"Finally!" he said. "So Roy, what do you know about flowers? And bees?"

* * *

It took a couple of weeks for the paperwork to go through. He was discharged from the military, and then sworn in as the first civilian Secretary of State.

Roy was having lunch with Riza in a little cafe. The swearing-in ceremony had been that morning, so he was still wearing his formal three-piece suit. She had come from her office in Central HQ, in her usual uniform.

"Today then, Roy?" she confirmed.

"Not backing out, are you, Major?" he said, grinning.

"I'm still not sure we deserve this," she said. After so many years, it was hard to believe it was actually going to happen.

"Probably not," he agreed. "But as Secretary of State, being married will actually make me more effective. A diplomat's spouse is an irreplaceable asset. You're sure you don't want to wait until we can get more people together?"

"Not really. Besides, if my grandfather finds out, he'll want to make it a State affair and it could be months before we can get married. Unless you think maybe it would be better for your position if we did it that way?"

"I don't think it matters that much," he answered. "As long as your grandfather doesn't get angry with us, I don't think the State wedding itself is important."

"Okay then, we're supposed to be at the Marriage Registry Office in an hour. Lieutenant Colonel Miles is going to meet us there. I'm picking up Vato, Kain and Rebecca. You get Heymans and Jean."

An hour later, Roy Mustang signed the Marriage Registry with Riza Hawkeye. There were six witnesses. The only one not in uniform was the groom.

* * *

Duty and desire aren't _always_ opposed.

* * *

Author's Note:

Riza's grandfather is Grumman, of course. Since the manga only hints at it, rather than coming right out and saying it, I decided to do the same.

The scene with Hawkeye pointing Grumman out to Mustang on the parade grounds is my description of the last picture of Roy and Riza in the manga.

And that was my goal in this fic: to get from the last depiction of Roy as blind (combining aspects of both the manga and the last anime) to the last depiction of Roy able to see. While staying as close to the manga canon as possible.

Thanks for staying with me and all your reviews!


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